Hell to Pay
by jmp22895
Summary: Alfred is a demon, on earth to kill a guardian angel and wreck as much havoc as possible. Arthur is the angel that has to kill him first. With both of them disguised as high school students, whoever gets found out first, dies. Unless they happen to fall for each other first.
1. Welcome to the Jungle

Alfred stood silently in the blackness. The suffocating emptiness was smothering him. The darkness was almost tangible. He tried to take a calming breath, but the air seemed so much heavier here than it had only moments before, just outside. He hated this kind of interdimensional travel, but unfortunately it was the fastest, most effective way of traveling between Hell and Earth…

He shifted on his feet, trying his best not to start fidgeting or moving. He desperately wanted to talk to someone, but he knew no one was going to reply, even if they could hear him here. And, of course, Alfred was the only demon alive who seemed unable to stand being shut up in the dark for this long. He sighed slightly, shutting his eyes and crossing his arms tightly.

A faint light appeared, soft and glowing, several feet away. Had Alfred been paying any attention, he would have realized that was his cue to step forward. But, seeing as the demon was lost in his own thoughts (a problem that seemed to occur often), suddenly—

**WHAM**

With a yelp, he tumbled forward, onto the pavement with a loud thud. He froze, holding in his breath. He slowly raised his head, his eyes wide. Demons, in general, were stealthy and calm. They traveled through the shadows and could appear without a sound, without a human ever even knowing they were there before their life was cut short.

Alfred, on the other hand, was no such demon.

After a solid minute of lying sprawled in the dirt, scanning for any prying eyes, he slowly muttered, "Shit," and hopped to his feet, sullenly dusting his pants off. Good thing his friend had the foresight to have him appear in a more deserted area of the city. Only his first day on the job and he'd already almost been caught. He sighed, and glanced up.

And then he gasped.

He was standing in a small, deserted park. He was standing on a small path, with grass and flowers on either side of him, along with a small brook. There were some trees nearby, tall and swaying gently in the wind. Further past the trees he could make out the rest of the sprawling cityscape he was going to be making his home. The only disappointment was the absence of the stars that he'd heard so much about, but the immense black sky seemed to have its own eerie glow, almost erasing that dissatisfaction entirely.

"Whoa," he muttered, looking around in awe. "This is so epic!"

A loud ringing interrupted his thoughts. He yelped and spun around, whipping out his long, black dagger. But there was no one there, and the ringing continued, the only noise, save for the rustle of leaves and the distant sound of traffic. He glanced around quickly, before remembering the small device his friend had given him to put in the pocket of his new clothes. Slowly, he pulled out the oblong device and pressed it against his ear. "Um, hello?"

The phone rang two more times before he remembered to hit the green button.

"Hello?"

"Alfred-kun, what are you doing?" A familiar voice said softly from the other line.

Alfred immediately perked up. "Kiku! Dude, you'll never believe what this place looks like! It is so freaking cool! I mean, sure they tell you all about it, but I mean it's so much cooler than they make it out to be, I haven't seen any stars or anything yet, but there's a shit-ton of trees and—"

"Alfred-kun," the quiet demon on the other line interrupted, "what are you doing? You only just started and you've already almost broken cover twice…"

Alfred blinked, frowning. "What are you talking about? I only fell once! Relax, man, I've got everything under control—"

"You are holding a glowing dagger."

Alfred paused. Then he cussed, slipping the weapon back into his coat. "No I'm not," he replied quickly.

Kiku sighed slightly, and Alfred almost laughed. Kiku was a strange demon to say the least. He was far quieter than any other demon Alfred had ever met, and much more polite. He also spoke with a strange accent (he'd been working to hide it, but at times his L's and R's still got mixed up). It's said that demons will hold onto some sort of remnant of a past life when they become a demon. Not that Alfred believed that crap, but trying to imagine Kiku as a person always gave him a laugh.

"Anyway, dude, relax," Alfred continued. "I have got everything under control here." He walked into the grass, still staring around at the scenery in wonder. "I just gotta pretend to be a person and hunt down this angel guy, right? Cause as much damage as possible while I'm at it? Hell, I'm already looking pretty human right now." He glanced at his reflection in a small puddle, formed near the small trickling creek.

His hair was a dark blond color, still messy from his trip (and possibly hitting the ground face first). It stuck up in places, especially at the front. He had on jeans, a black T-shirt, and this really cool brown jacket he'd picked out. He also had a pair of glasses over his strange blue eyes, apparently to help him get used to seeing things in sunlight instead of the perpetual blackness of the underworld. He grinned at his reflection, almost not recognizing himself. "Man, I look so badass."

"Alfred-kun, you need to concentrate," Kiku was practically begging on the other line. "You still haven't memorized your new identity, and you shouldn't just stand around in the middle of nowhere looking at your reflection."

"Dude, calm down, it's fine" Alfred insisted. "Can't I just look around a bit more? Please man?"

"No, you need to go," Kiku insisted. "You're human body doesn't look all that old, you could get in trouble for standing around out here in the middle of the night. You haven't had much practice being a human either. You'll have plenty of time to look around tomorrow."

Alfred pouted slightly, but sighed in a resigned sort of way. "Alright, whatever dude, show me to my new home…"

…

The phone rang in the small, cramped apartment.

There was a moment of silence. One split second where Arthur Kirkland didn't move, silently praying that he was still asleep. That the phone ringing was just part of some kind of fevered dream. That he could close his eyes and he could fall back asleep.

And the phone rang again. With an annoyed groan, he looked up blearily at the small clock on his bedside table.

1:21 A.M.

…

"Oh bloody hell," he mumbled furiously, rubbing at his eyes. His blond hair stuck up in every direction as he forced himself up, his green eyes still only half lidded as he fumbled for the pair of slippers lying haphazardly on the floor. He groaned slightly as he clambered to his feet, and then trudged toward the next room, stretching his arms out.

And his wings too, of course. Hell, having them folded up practically every day made them really stiff. Him being an angel and all.

He glared at the phone lying on the couch as he shuffled into the room. He could see the rectangular screen glowing as it continued to ring, but couldn't quite make out the Caller I.D. in the dark of the room. Scowling, he sat down and reached over to grab the phone.

_Private Caller_

He frowned. Then glanced at the clock again. 1:22. He felt his stomach begin to sink. It couldn't possibly be… _No, no, it's probably just…probably just one of my friends… _he told himself. He paused for a second, remembering he didn't have any friends. _Or maybe it's…um…it could be… _He raked his brain, trying to think of someone who could be calling him, _anyone_.

Anyone other than…him…

He let his hand hover over the talk button, taking a deep breath before pressing down. He then slowly raised the phone to his ear. "…hello? Who is this?" He demanded, praying desperately that he didn't already know the answer—

"Bonjour~~!"

…damn it…

Arthur let his head fall back, groaning slightly. "You stupid frog," he growled, shutting his eyes tightly. "Do you have _any _idea what time it is?"

"Almost 1:30 in the morning, right?" Francis answered without hesitation. "I'm sorry, were you about to go to bed?"

Arthur clenched his fists tightly, wishing he could wrap his fingers around the other's throat. "You know bloody well that I was trying to _sleep_."

Francis chuckled. "Really? But the sun hasn't even risen yet, mon ami. How can you be so boring! Oh, wait, no need to answer."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Shut up you git, you know that I'm busy tomorrow," he muttered. "And stop speaking in French, it's obnoxious…"

"What, are you going to hang out with some friends tomorrow?"

Arthur could almost see the smirk on his insufferable, bearded face. It took all of his willpower not to hang up right then. "Sod off," he snapped back finally. "What the hell do you want?"

"Whaaat, I can't just say hello to my favorite Angel at one in the morning?" He asked. Arthur clenched his jaw. Then he heard Francis sigh slightly on the other line. "Alright, there's a demon in the area. I just thought that I would give you a heads up."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, not speaking for a moment. "That is what you called to tell me in the middle of the night? There's a demon nearby?" He would've laughed if he had the energy for it. "For God's sake, Francis, I'm not a little kid. Do you know how many of those monstrous bastards I've killed since they dropped me here? Did you really need to tell me this in the middle of the night?"

"Well, no, I honestly just wanted to wake you up to annoy you."

"_Excuse me?_"

"But that's not the point," Francis interrupted before Arthur could go off on him. Arthur huffed as Francis continued. "I'm just saying, keep an eye out. This demon is supposedly powerful." He paused for a moment. Arthur frowned, unsure what to say back. But before he could, he heard a yawn. "But I should probably let you get back to your beauty rest, right? After all, you certainly need it~!"

Arthur sat up. "A-And just what the hell is that supposed to—?"

"Au revoir~!" _click_

Arthur sat there, fuming, for a good several minutes before throwing the phone down. "You know what, you are a _terrible _angel!" He yelled at the phone, knowing that no one could hear him and certainly not caring. He leaned back against the couch cushions, rubbing at his eyes again. "Stupid arse…"

He sat there for a little longer, trying to decide if it was worth it to get up and go back to his bed. Eventually, he clambered to his feet, still scowling pointedly, and started back toward his own room.

_Another demon, huh? _He thought to himself sleepily as he sat back down on his bed. _How many does that make now? Twelve? Thirteen? _He smirked as he flopped back onto his bed. He had absolutely nothing to worry about…

* * *

_So I only just came up with this idea, but all of my friends (all two of them *cough cough*) said I should just go for it. I have a better idea where this one is going than my other two fics I'm working on, so I feel like I'll get this one moving faster._

_This fic is not based off of anything. When I say that, I mean: 1.) I do not know anything about all that "Sweet Devil America" stuff. 2) I don't even understand what that's supposed to be. 3.) I have not seen Supernatural (Rachel) and probably won't for a while (Rachel) so stop asking me and bringing it up when you read this (RACHEL)._

_Anyway, I live for feedback, so tell me what you think of the fic so far. If it's worth continuing or if you like the idea or whatever, feel free to comment, because I love comments._


	2. First Impressions

Alfred stared up at the massive brick building, his hands buried deep in his jean pockets. There were hundreds of young humans darting past him, all chattering aimlessly, not a single one even giving him a second look. He grinned slightly. For once, he was blending in perfectly…

His phone ringing suddenly tore through his thoughts. He jumped slightly and almost grabbed his dagger again before he stopped himself. Slowly, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled the phone out, clicking the green button. "Jeez, dude, you just about gave me a heart attack again," he laughed into the phone.

"Alfred-kun, why are you just standing and staring at the building?"

"Just makin' sure it's the right place!" He answered calmly. He glanced up at the sign suspended high on the wall of the building; _Linguini High School*_. He frowned ever so slightly. "But, uh, are _you_ sure this is the right place?"

"Hai—I-I mean, yes, I am sure," Kiku replied quickly, and Alfred could faintly hear him shuffling some papers from wherever he was. "This is where supposedly the angel is hiding. I mean…well is suspected to be hiding. We really don't have any information on him, at all, so that is all we have to go on."

Alfred shrugged to himself. "Whatever. So I just go in and wreck some shit, stab the angel guy, and be done with it?"

"Well, you have to be more, um, subtle than that…" Kiku started anxiously.

"Dude, relax," Alfred told him, smirking as he started forward toward the entrance. "I won't get found out. No one will even notice me! I am the master of blending in."

"W-Well, there're a few people looking at you right now…"

Alfred blinked and glanced up. He could see a few people, girls, looking toward him. He gave them and impish grin and kept walking. "Dude, calm the Hell down," he insisted, sniggering slightly. "I'm just hot! Of course people are gonna stare at me!"

He could almost see Kiku facepalming. "But you're trying to blend in," he told him, "so please don't do anything too…too…attention-grabbing…"

Alfred laughed at him some more. "You worry too much, Kiku," he said, still grinning as he stepped into the building. "I have everything under control!" He thought for a second. "Oh, by the way, can you, like, see me from where you are or something?"

"Um, yes, I can. Just as long as you have the phone with you, I can at least see a little bit. Just please do not lose it …"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah whatever." He continued walking…

…

Arthur sat silently in the old, ripped chair that sat in the room just outside the principal's office, pretending to be asleep. It was uncomfortable as hell, but he was used to it after almost four years. He sat here much more often than in his own classrooms. Often you could peek into the offices and find him in the exact same position he was sitting in now: Head back, eyes closed, arms crossed, and a bitter scowl etched across his face.

He heard the door open. He cracked his eye open slightly, just enough to see someone pass by only a few feet away and stride up to the secretary's desk. "Um, 'scuse me?" A guy's voice said. "Um, hey, my name's Alfred F. Jones, I'm, uh, supposed to come here, right?"

Arthur shut his eye again. He definitely didn't recognize that name, or that voice. Probably a new student or something. Just some new meat. He smirked ever so slightly, but other than that didn't move as the kid continued talking.

"Okay, so I should just wait here? Right, cool!" He heard movement, then suddenly the kid plopped down next to him with a thump. Arthur scowled again, really hoping he wouldn't have to talk. Hopefully feigning sleep would be enough.

"Um, hey there!"

Or maybe not…

He heard the other turn toward him. "Name's Alfred F. Jones, what's yours?" He asked. There was an expectant pause, but Arthur didn't move so much as a muscle. Was this kid stupid? "Um, hello? Dude? Hey, man, come on, I know you're not asleep." A finger poked Arthur's face. He felt himself flinch slightly, but forced himself not to lash out at him. "Um, hello?" There was another long pause, and he heard this Alfred idiot fidgeting from next to him. Arthur refused to say anything, but he could feel his annoyance in the faint ache of his temples.

After a minute he heard Alfred bend over and grab something. Sounded like it could be some papers. Arthur sighed, relieved that the kid would stop bothering—

_**WHACK**_

Arthur screamed and pitched sideways out of the chair and onto the floor. He lay flat on his back, gasping slightly, staring up. Alfred leaned over the chair and grinned down at him, a rolled up newspaper clenched in his hands. Arthur sat up slowly. "What…the…?" He managed to gasp shakily.

"There was a caterpillar or something on your face," Alfred told him matter-of-factly. "Oh hey, I think it's still there. Shit." He swung the newspaper again.

Arthur yelped and caught the paper as it swung toward his eyebrows, glaring up at the kid as he yanked it away. "What the bloody hell is your problem?" He snapped.

"Oh hey, you're awake now. Hi, I'm Alfred!" Alfred held out his hand, grinning at Arthur as he clambered back onto his chair. Arthur glared at him, not completely sure whether he'd done that purposely or not. "And you are?"

"I am going to kill you," Arthur snapped at him hatefully, rubbing his arm. His wings throbbed slightly from where he had landed on them, and he wished he could stretch them out so desperately. He had to settle for stretching his arm.

Alfred just laughed slightly. "Right, kay, well, nice to meet ya'!"

Arthur scowled again, glaring back at the kid. Well, maybe he shouldn't use the word kid. The guy was clearly several inches taller than the angel, and more muscular too. He looked about seventeen, which was how old Arthur's body was. Although there definitely was a childish, mischievous look about his blue eyes that made Arthur feel as though he was younger. Maybe he was a junior.

Arthur turned away again and leaned his head back against the wall behind him, crossing his arms. Even if Alfred knew he was awake, he could at least rest his tired eyes. That idiotic git, Francis, just _had_ to call at one in the morning. He barely slept the rest of the night.

He wondered what he was in the office for this time. Normally he was called down while he was doing something wrong, such as setting the Home Ec. classroom on fire, or punching someone. More often punching someone. The school had a strict no-violence policy. (They also had a strict no-bullying policy, but it seemed much less pertinent to enforce _that_ on a regular basis.)

But this time they just pulled him aside and told him to wait for almost fifteen minutes. He only vaguely wondered why, because quite honestly, he couldn't care less. Maybe they were finally going to expel him. And he could finally leave this pathetic city. Maybe get a different cover.

Or maybe be let back into heaven.

He snorted slightly at that last thought. Like that was ever going to happen. They'd sooner let the Devil into heaven before they allowed Arthur Kirkland within ten feet. They already let _Francis_ back in before him (God only knows why, the angel was a perverse frog with a libido twice as big as his ego).

"What's so funny?"

Arthur glanced at Alfred, who seemed puzzled by Arthur's faint smirk. "Oh, I was just thinking how wonderful it would be if they finally expelled me," he replied.

"Oh, well, okay, good luck!" Alfred told him with another grin.

Arthur's smirk faded to a scowl. "Um…right."

"Arthur Kirkland?"

Arthur glanced up, to see the secretary motioning for him to go into the principal's office. He sighed and stood up, rubbing at his tired eyes as he did so. "Well, that is my cue," he murmured. He strode away, hoping deep down that he and Alfred would never run into each other again.

Walking into the room used to make him feel apprehensive, but after years of the same routine, he'd gotten used to coming and going constantly. Now he just strode calmly in and sat down in his seat.

He was only half listening when the principal began her speech. It was the same one he'd gotten a million times, about how colleges wouldn't let him in with such a bad permanent record and some more stuff like that (really, it wasn't like he was going to college, he already knew what he was doing the rest of his miserable life).

She also started on some sort of long tangent about how he had no extracurricular activities (as if he had time for those) and some more about how he was 'an intelligent young man' but needed more credit to even graduate this year (by this point he'd started staring out the grimy window at the street below).

And then there was something she said that he heard much too clearly: "…so I signed you up for an extra credit program—"

"_Excuse me?_" He interrupted suddenly, sitting straight up. That certainly caught his attention. "You did _what_ exactly?"

She glared at him. He shut his mouth quickly, sinking back down in the chair. His eyes followed her as she strode past him and toward the doorway. "Alfred Jones?" She called, and Arthur felt the blood drain from his face. _Oh for the love of…_

Alfred strode in, looking around and seeing Arthur. He looked like he was about to say something, before the principal grabbed his shoulder and turned. "This is Alfred," she told a horrified-looking Arthur. "He is a new student. He used to be homeschooled. _You_ are going to be he mentor, help him find his classes, help him study, and help him with anything else he needs. If he starts failing, or complains to me about _anything_…" She finished with a glare that clearly said, 'there will be hell to pay.'

Arthur stared at her for a second. Then at Alfred. Then he shut his eyes and groaned.

* * *

_*Ha ha totally pulled that outta my ass. Sorry for the terrible school name. It's an inside joke and I promised I would call it that. And I couldn't think of a legitimate high school name to use. If I think of one I will edit this. (And Jamie, you're welcome.)_

_I think if there was a test on first impressions, Alfred would fail. With flying colors. An F-. But fortunately school hasn't started._

_Gonna put a ton more characters in next chapter. Hopefully I'll think of a better title too._

_Thanks for the comments I've been getting so far! I love getting them. And I'm glad people like the story so far. :)_


	3. Names and Faces

Alfred followed after Arthur as they strode out of the office. Every few seconds he'd have to look around, a new sight or sound distracting him. Everything about the building seemed so sterile, yet all the people were wearing such bright colors and talking so loudly, and the halls were so crowded and every few seconds he'd get jostled one way or the other, and there were posters on the walls and papers littering the floor, and he couldn't even see Arthur through the crowd and—

"Hey! Git!"

Alfred looked up, startled, and caught sight of two emerald green eyes glaring at him from the other side of the crowd. "Hurry it up!" Arthur snapped at him. "The bell is ringing in five minutes! What the hell is your first class?"

Alfred sighed slightly in relief and quickly began maneuvering his way quickly through the crowd. Arthur had already turned away and began walking again, and Alfred almost had to run to catch up. Alfred frowned slightly as he stumbled up next to him. And he thought _demons_ were jerks.

"What's your first class?" Arthur repeated, glancing over at Alfred.

Alfred frowned, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crinkled slip of paper. "Says I got study hall first," he replied, looking over his schedule.

Arthur faltered for a moment, then swore under his breath. "Of course you do," he growled, continuing down the hall.

Alfred smirked slightly. "You too then?" Arthur didn't even glance up at him, but he continued talking anyway. "So I guess I'm hangin' out with you? Cool. What is a study hall anyway?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You're joking, right?"

Alfred's smile faded slightly. "Um…no?" He replied, suddenly a little wary. Was this something he was supposed to know? Kiku never mentioned that, could it be important? Was he already blowing it?

But fortunately, Arthur didn't notice Alfred's sudden discomfort. He just turned away and continued walking. "Well, it's basically a large room where they send people to do work and everyone ends up screaming and shoving each other into lockers the whole time." He shrugged. "Honestly it's the biggest waste of time…"

Alfred grinned. "Sounds cool!"

"Of course it does," he muttered, looking more and more annoyed by the second. Then suddenly he stopped walking. Alfred stumbled to a stop only inches away from his back, almost walking straight into him. "Well," he said, stepping to the side of a large doorway, "you can see for yourself…"

Alfred paused for a second. And nervously, he peaked inside.

Inside the room was complete anarchy. There were people all over, all shouting and running, a few throwing paper, some hitting each other. There was even a white-haired guy standing on top of a long table, singing (or shouting, it seemed like it could be either) a song loudly in German as a few people cheered him on (and a few more threw things at his head).

"Whoa!" Alfred shouted over the noise, looking around with wide eyes. "Shit, this place is crazy! Hey Arthur, where am I supposed to sit—" he turned and suddenly was smashed sideways into the wall as a large guy with blond, slicked-back hair shoved furiously past him.

"GILBERT!" He bellowed, and the albino turned, pausing in his song. "GILBERT, GET OFF OF THE TABLE!"

"Hiya Ludwig!" The other cackled. "You are taking this 'hall monitor' shit way too seriously—!"

Ludwig grabbed his arm and practically threw him off the table, and as he did, the bell started to ring. And the crowd immediately started dispersing toward different tables as a teacher began shouting for attention. "_Everyone sit down!_"

Arthur brushed past Alfred, who was trying to regain his breath after it had been knocked clean out of him by the large German boy. "Um, watch out," he said with a smirk.

Alfred straightened back up shakily. "Right, thanks," he muttered back, scowling slightly as he trudged after Arthur toward the nearest table. He sat down as Arthur began rifling though his bag. "So what do we do now?" He asked.

Arthur glanced up at him. "Do whatever the hell you want," he snapped. "I'm not here to babysit you." He turned back toward the papers he'd pulled out.

Alfred blinked, then sighed slightly. "Oh. Right," he muttered, glancing down at the pocket of his jacket. He wished he could call Kiku real quick. Or anyone actually. Anyone at all, if he could just have someone friendly he could talk to…

_Thump_

Alfred jumped, as suddenly, two figures sat down, one next to him and one next to Arthur. He saw Arthur pause for a second, then continue writing as if he hadn't noticed anything. Alfred glanced at him, slightly confused, then toward the pair of red eyes on his other side.

"Hey, Eyebrows!" The albino called loudly, leaning forward to look at the Brit ignoring him, his mouth twisted into a sneer. "Who's our new friend?"

Arthur paused for a moment. "Why the hell are you using the word 'our'?" He asked darkly, glaring up at him.

The other boy cackled slightly, sneer growing. "Whaaat? We're all friends here! Keses—"

"Wait, but Gilbert, don't we hate him?"

There was a long awkward pause as three pairs of eyes turned toward a confused-looking boy with curly brown hair. He seemed to be thinking for a moment. "Or, wait…" he mumbled.

The albino, Gilbert, rolled his eyes after a second. "Um, don't mind him," he told Alfred quietly. "English is his second language—"

"Oh wait, you were using sarcasm!" He realized suddenly. There was another awkward pause as everyone turned to glare at him. He just smiled proudly.

"Genius," Arthur muttered after a minute, already back to writing whatever he'd been writing. "And here I was thinking you somehow got by on your looks."

"Oh, thanks, I—" He froze, suddenly realizing Arthur was using sarcasm too. His face fell into an annoyed frown, and he stood up and moved to Arthur's other side, so he and Gilbert were sitting on either side of Alfred.

Alfred glanced back and forth, a little confused. Was this a normal thing for humans to do? He wasn't positive, especially since Arthur had acted so differently. Unsure of what to do, he turned toward the albino one and held out his hand, the way humans were supposed to. "Hi, I'm Alfred F. Jones!" He said.

The boy blinked, then grinned at him. "Alfred, huh? Name's Gilbert!" He roughly shook Alfred's hand. Alfred could here he had a faint accent. "Gilbert Beilschmidt! The coolest guy you'll ever meet!" He motioned to the boy on the other side. "Over there's the second coolest guy."

"I'm Antonio Fernández Carriedo!" He said in a much thicker accent, giving Alfred a big smile. "Nice to meet you!"

"So, you're new here, huh?" Gilbert asked, leaning back in his chair and placing his feet on the table. "Where you from?"

Alfred straightened up. This was his first test. He'd spent hours memorizing his cover story, and he finally got to try it out! "I'm from the suburbs!" He answered immediately, grinning at them. "I used to be homeschooled!"

Gilbert laughed a little. "Kesese, you seem a _little_ too excited about that."

That wiped the grin off his face. "…I…I do?" He asked.

Gilbert just laughed at him. "Yeah, I don't think homeschooling is supposed to be all that cool." He grinned when he saw Alfred's worried expression. "Don't worry 'bout it kid," he told him. "Just stick with us. You'll be cooler in no time!"

Suddenly, Arthur snickered. Gilbert, Antonio, and Alfred looked over at him. "Don't you mean ostracized and held back a year?" He asked, looking up at the three of them with a smirk.

Gilbert narrowed his eyes. "Least I have friends," he retorted. "More than you got, jackass."

Arthur paused for a second, glaring coldly at him, then went back to pretending he wasn't there. Gilbert just sniggered slightly. "Listen, Albert, or whatever it was, you really shouldn't hang out with Eyebrows over there."

Alfred frowned. He turned toward Arthur, who hadn't even glanced up. "Why not?" He asked. "Dude seems pretty cool."

He saw Arthur pause, just for a second. He glanced up at Alfred, looking confused, but before he could speak, Gilbert and Antonio had started laughing. Antonio leaned forward. "How many people have you talked to?"

"…Um, one…?"

Gilbert sighed. "Wow, okay, that explains it." He spun around in his seat, Antonio quickly following suit. Alfred looked at them, then turned around too. "Alright, you really need to talk to other people. I can point some people out." Gilbert motioned across the room, toward the blond guy that had slammed Alfred into the wall only minutes earlier. "To start with, that is my little brother, Ludwig."

Alfred glanced at Gilbert. Then at Ludwig, who was sitting silently in his seat, doing homework of some sort. "…_Little_ brother?" He asked incredulously. "You guys are related?"

Gilbert nodded. "Yeah, I know, we're nothing alike. I mean, I am way more awesome." Ludwig glanced up from his homework. Gilbert grinned and waved at, and Ludwig scowled, turning back toward his papers. "Poor kid's such a nerd. Actually got moved up a year! Oh well."

"Oh, next to him is Feliciano Vargas!" Antonio piped in, motioning to a small boy doodling next to Ludwig with an absentminded smile on his face.

"Oh yeah, Feli's so cute!" Gilbert laughed. "Keep telling Lud to tap that but whatever…"

"Oh, and next to him is his brother Lovino!" Antonio continued, smiling toward the table. Alfred glanced over again, to see a much angrier boy sitting farther down the table, staring into space. "Él es tan lindo, ¿no?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Um, sure Antonio…sure…" He kept looking around. "Who else...so over at that table is Toris, he's really quiet. Next to him is Feliks something-or-other, I think he cross dresses on the weekends. There's also Eduard and Raivis I think that's his name and that's Ivan _shit wait don't look at him unless you want to die_ um there's a bunch of unawesome arschlöcher over at that table…"

Alfred glanced around at everyone as Gilbert pointed them out. There sure were a lot of people. Did he have to memorize all of their names? Shit, he hoped not. He could barely keep track of the three he'd already been introduced to.

"…and that guy at that table's Roderich," Gilbert continued. "If you get the chance, I'd recommend beating him up. Oh, and next to him is Elizabeta—"

"Gil," Antonio interrupted. "Gilbert, the teacher's coming."

Gilbert glanced up, then cursed. "Oh verdammt, I forgot we had a detention today."

"Oh yeah!" Antonio remembered. "Is that why she looks angry?"

"Shit, gotta go." Gilbert and Antonio both ducked down quickly. Gilbert then sprinted out the door, and with a quick, "adiós," Antonio dashed after him.

Alfred remained in his chair. The room suddenly seemed much quieter. "Where are they going?" He asked Arthur, turning back around.

"Who the hell knows," Arthur replied, glancing up at the door, just as a teacher sprinted past, shouting something. "Trust me, those two are the biggest tossers you will ever meet."

Alfred frowned, looking at the door. "Really?" He asked. "I mean, they seemed all right."

"Then you're an idiot," he muttered back darkly.

Alfred looked at him for a second, then scowled. This guy just did _not_ seem to like him. He was almost as bad as the demons back home. Well, two could play at that game! Alfred thought for a second, trying to think of a good retort. "Well they seem cooler than you," he said. Then he smirked as he saw Arthur glare at him. _Ha, _he thought smugly._ Point for Alfred._

Arthur glowered at him for a minute. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. Then he stood up. "Well, in that case, you could always ask them to get you to your next class," he told him.

Alfred blinked. "What—?"

The bell cut through his sentence, causing him to practically jump out of his seat. In a matter of seconds, the room was a flurry of motion. Everyone had stood up and was pushing past toward the door. Alfred tried to stand up, but people seemed to be pushing past him from every side.

He managed to catch a glimpse of a pair of smug green eyes before they disappeared out the door.

* * *

_Well, Arthur's not making himself any friends so far. Although, neither is Alfred._

_I love the Bad Touch Trio. I think those three are gonna become much more important to the story later..._

_So I guess Gilbert and Ludwig moved to America at a much younger age than Antonio, so their English is much better._

_Agh, I can never think of things to say in these little things at the end. I guess just thanks again for all the reviews, and I'll try to update again in a few days. :)_


	4. Chance of a Lifetime

Alfred stumbled out the large double doors, practically being thrown off his feet by the surge of students forcing through behind him. He yelped as he missed the first few steps, and grabbed onto the rusting railing to stop himself from breaking his legs. Except that almost immediately someone ran straight into him and knocked him down the other half of the stairs and into a half dead bush.

He yelped again and stumbled to his feet, scrambling back against the wall as more people ran past. Shit, humans were freaking insane! He stood there for about a minute before the inundation of people slowed to a trickle. He sighed and brushed off the dirt from his pants, grimacing slightly at the cuts and bruises now covering his body.

It was official. He hated school.

After Arthur had abandoned him that morning, Alfred had gotten completely and utterly lost. He'd missed the next four classes, as well as his lunch period (DAMN was he pissed off about that), and somehow gotten himself locked in the boiler room. Normally he could've used the shadows to get through the locked door, but since there were too many people around, he had to settle for shouting cusswords at the door until a janitor showed up.

He sighed as he leaned against the wall, rubbing his arm. _Man, this sucks,_ he thought bitterly. After a few seconds, he remembered the phone in his pocket, and quickly pulled it out. He frowned at it, wondering how to call Kiku. He pressed the green button, then the red one, scowling. "Damn It, Kiku, how do I work this thing?" He muttered out loud.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Alfred practically jumped out of his skin, dropping the phone and scrambling to catch it in midair. He hit the talk button. "Um, Kiku…?"

"Um, hello Alfred-kun," Kiku replied. "I think you're supposed to hit redial when you need to—"

"_Duuuuude_," Alfred whined loudly, interrupting his friend midsentence. "I hate this place! It's boring and it sucks. And this jackass Arthur totally just left me in the middle of nowhere. Can't they get someone else to do this?"

Kiku sighed slightly. "I'm very sorry, Alfred-kun, but I don't think they can," he told him. "But if it makes you feel better I think that is how humans are supposed to feel."

Alfred paused. "You're enjoying this, aren't you," he accused him angrily.

Kiku didn't answer for a moment. "O-Of course not…" he mumbled almost imperceptibly. "A-Anyway, have you found the angel yet?"

"Nah, man, haven't even started looking," Alfred sighed. "I mean, I tried, but I had no idea where I was going. And hell, there're hundreds of people in there, maybe like a thousand. I really doubt I'll just run into him." He thought for a second. "Or her. You think it's a girl?"

"I don't know," Kiku told him. "I am sorry, Alfred-kun, but I really don't know any more than you do. We just have to find him. Are you sure you haven't seen or heard anything suspicious?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Listen, Kiku, the only guy I've actually talked to so far is a total dick—"

Suddenly, a boy shoved past him, almost knocking him over again. Alfred jumped slightly, then scowled toward the kid. "Jeez, you would not believe how many assholes there are here," he said, still glaring at the boy as he turned a corner several feet away. Then his eyes widened as he saw a pair familiar green eyes.

Alfred's eyes narrowed angrily. "…Hey Kiku, I'll call you back."

"W-What? W-Wait, Alfre—"

He hung up and ducked down, grinning to himself. Silently, he slipped down the sidewalk after the British boy, stopping at the street corner and peaking around the edge of the school building. Arthur was farther down the street, standing silently at the edge of a crowd at a bus stop, a scowl on his face and a large backpack slung over his shoulder. Alfred grinned happily, and pressed himself against the rough bricks of the school, into the shadows.

Alfred was not a stealthy demon. He wasn't exactly clever either. He wasn't really fearsome, or particularly violent, or…well…anything really. But there were a few things he did much better than any other demon…

He peaked out from behind the wall again, concentrating hard, staring pointedly at Arthur. Or, more importantly, at the shadows near his feet.

…

The bus pulled up about a minute later. Arthur sighed to himself slightly, and stepped forward. Then he cried out as he fell forward, crashing face first into the bus stairs. He swore loudly, sitting up, and glaring down at his shoelaces, which had somehow been tied together.

…

Arthur slammed his front door shut behind himself as he stormed into his apartment. He heaved his backpack down onto the floor, and threw his shoes down behind him, reaching over to lock the door. Then, grimacing, he pulled his shirt over his head and turned to look at the large mirror leaning against the wall. _Let's see what the damage is today,_ he thought exhaustedly, running his fingers through his messy hair.

He stretched his wings out behind him. Dear God were they sore. Not only were they stiff, but he was convinced he'd dislocated something when that stupid git Alfred knocked him out of a chair. His shoulder was bruised from the fall too. There was also a darkening bruise on his chest from when he'd gotten slammed into a locker that afternoon, and the yellowing bruise on his stomach from the idiots that beat him up during gym the other day. And of course now he had a scrape on his chin from falling on the bus.

He glared the most fiercely at the cut on his face. _How the hell did they manage to tie my shoes?_ He wondered idly. It was certainly not the first time someone had tripped him, but he was sure he hadn't noticed anyone he hated near the bus stop.

He sighed and walked toward the couch, collapsing onto the ragged cushions face first with a groan. Today had been awful, even without having to babysit the idiot after first period. He was just glad he managed to lose the git quickly before his usual morning routine started up (and by that he of course meant the usual game of 'hey let's steal the fag's backpack and shove it into a toilet').

He shut his eyes tightly, hoping that he could just pass out and this awful day would end.

_Knock knock knock_

Arthur froze. Then he scrambled to his feet, cursing. He grabbed his shirt off the floor and pulled it over his head as he stumbled to the door. "W-Who is it?" He stammered quickly, tugging the material over his wings.

"Delivery for a monsieur Kirkland~!"

Arthur frowned. "Delivery? I didn't order anyth—" He froze, the word 'monsieur' sinking into his head. He yanked the door open, eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. "_FRANCIS?_"

"Bonjour mon cher~!" Francis greeted calmly, stepping past the threshold with a smile and a large box held tightly in his arms. "I would kiss your cheek but I don't want to catch whatever awful disease rid you of a personality—"

"Francis, what the bloody hell are you doing here?" Arthur hissed, slamming the door behind him as Francis shrugged his jacket off and spread his large wings out behind him. He was dressed in a button-down shirt with holes in the back for his wings to fit through, and his long blond hair was tied back in a ponytail. Arthur frowned at him. "And why are you wearing that?" He added. "Aren't you usually obsessed with wearing 'fashionable' clothing?"

Francis chuckled. "What, you want me to cut _holes_ in my fashionable clothes? As if I need to impress you."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Oh, right, of course not," he muttered, scowling as Francis strode calmly into the next room and set the large box on a nearby table. "And just what the hell is that?" He demanded, eying it as he followed Francis.

"They're cookbooks," Francis answered, continuing into the kitchen with a smirk. "I was hoping you could try to improve your cooking. Although with your cooking I highly doubt that is possible." He paused, glancing at the blackened remains of the toast Arthur had forgotten to throw out that morning.

Arthur grabbed the toast and quickly tossed it into the trash bin. "My toaster is broken!" He insisted defensively.

"Oui, of course mon ami," Francis replied airily. "But, um, forgive me if I don't take your word for it. I've seen the kinds of thing that come out of this kitchen…"

"Shut up," Arthur muttered. "So just what the hell do you want?"

Francis's smile faltered. Only for a split second, but Arthur managed to catch it before Francis turned away suddenly, laughing uncomfortably. "Maybe I just wanted to see how you were doing," he replied, just a little too quickly for Arthur's liking. "Well, obviously you haven't had a decent meal in years."

Arthur blinked. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Francis, what are you doing here?" He asked slowly.

Francis paused again, not looking at him. "…I missed earth," he replied with a shrug. "Mon Dieu, why is it even that important?"

"Francis…?"

Francis paused. He glanced over, just for a second. And in the second their eyes met, Arthur caught something that made his stomach drop:

Guilt

"Francis, why are you here?" Arthur asked, feeling deep down that he knew the answer.

Francis grimaced slightly, focusing his eyes on the wall. "W-Well…you…" he sighed deeply, scratching his arm. "Arthur…I, uh…they sent me to tell you that you are done."

There was a minute where Arthur couldn't quite answer him. "I'm…I'm done?" He repeated faintly. "Y-You mean I'm going back?"

"…non, that is…that is not what I meant…" Francis replied.

Arthur stood there, staring numbly at the angel that seemed unable to look him in the eyes. "I'm…you mean I…but I…b-but I've spent years…I've killed dozens of demons I…"

Francis glanced at him. "You're out of chances, Arthur," he told him. "Oui, you have killed demons, but you have caused almost as much destruction as they would've, you cannot hold out a disguise for very long, you are not capable of blending in with these humans, you…well, they don't feel as though you deserve any more chances," he finished quickly.

Arthur could feel the blood drain from his face. He tried to speak, to shout, but all that he managed to do was open and shut his mouth like an idiot. "I-I don't…_deserve_…" he managed to sputter weakly, staring.

"Listen, Arthur—"

"_I DON'T DESERVE ANY MORE CHANCES?_" Arthur screamed at him suddenly, managing to take a breath. Francis jumped almost a foot in the air, yelping slightly. "I have been working my ARSE off on this Goddamn planet and they think I don't DESERVE another chance?"

"A-Alright, maybe you should calm—"

"SHUT UP!" He bellowed furiously. "Do NOT tell me to calm down you stupid, self-centered frog, you—how the hell could I calm down—I can't—" He took a shaky breath with difficulty, his heart was beating too fast, he felt sick to his stomach.

Francis nervously grabbed a rickety chair, pushing it toward Arthur. "If you're going to get sick, do it away from me s'il vous plaît," he mumbled with an uneasy chuckle. "These are new shoes…"

Arthur tried to glare at him as he fell into the chair, but he couldn't quite muster up the energy. "So I'm not…I'm not…going to go home then, am I…?" He asked.

Francis sighed. "Oui, it would seem that way."

Arthur shut his eyes and let his head fall forward into his hands. It was deathly silent for about a minute. Francis sat himself down in a nearby chair, looking over toward Arthur. "Well, at least you'll have time to improve your cooking…" He suggested.

"…great…" Arthur muttered back darkly, sitting back up. "Wonderful." He felt numb. "Why now, though? What exactly did I do this time?"

Francis shrugged. "They do not tell me things," he told him. "They just told me to tell you…"

Arthur frowned, thinking hard. "There has to be something I can do to change their minds…" An idea occurred to him. "What about that demon you said was here this morning?" He asked suddenly. "That powerful one? What are they planning on doing about that?"

Francis raised his eyebrow. "Je ne sais pas. Why?"

"If I killed it, would they reconsider?"

Francis paused. "Err, I don't know—"

"Just suggest it to them!" Arthur pleaded. "That I could help them out with this, and they could give me another chance! Come on, Francis, I know you're a self-centered bastard, but just help me out this once!" He paused. Then added the one word he'd never thought he'd use in his life. "…Please."

Francis blinked. Then he stood up, rolling his eyes. "Oui, fine, I'll try," he sighed dramatically. "But only because Heaven is boring without your massive eyebrows to make fun of…" He turned around toward the doorway. "And I think if you ruin another human identity you are out of luck."

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, almost smiling. "You don't have to worry about that, just…"

Francis sent him a smirk before he could finish. "Of course, you _do_ realize this means you owe me now, right~?" He gave Arthur a wink.

Arthur blanched. "Wha…? Not if you life depended on it you wanker!" He yelled back.

"Well, we'll see about that~!" Francis called back as he strode out of the room. "Á bientôt~!"

Arthur was tempted to grab a knife off the kitchen table and throw it straight at the frog's head, but he heard him grab his coat and slip through the door before he could even get back to his feet. He groaned, muttering a few curse words under his breath as he stood up.

He was in the clear. He just needed to kill this demon, and quickly. It shouldn't be to terribly difficult, he'll found and killed plenty of them in years past. Maybe he could finally go home. And all he had to do was find it and kill it.

_And not ruin your disguise again,_ a voice added quietly in the back of his head.

Arthur sighed, grinning to himself. Why on earth would he have to worry about that—?

And then he remembered the kid he'd left in study hall. Who could get him expelled. Which would prevent him from interacting with humans. And basically ruin his disguise.

…

…

"Shit…"

* * *

_Dunno why it took longer to get this chapter up. But I managed to finish!_

_Well, now Arthur has a motive for making friends. Or at least hanging out with Alfred. I'm sure he's thrilled._

_By the way, I accidentally wrote 'Francis' instead of 'France' on my homework the other day. I just feel as though I have finally gone crazy. (Course, I _am_ tired as hell, but still...) But you gotta love Francis, come on._

_I think he's probably gonna become more important in the future too..._


	5. Making Friends And Enemies

Arthur sprinted up the uneven stairs and into the school's front doors, shoving through crowds of people as he went. He could hear the harsh tone of first bell ringing loudly in his ears as he dashed past. He had five minutes before the next bell would ring. Would that git be in his classroom? Probably not, but where the hell would he—?

_There!_He saw a pair of familiar blue eyes and glasses and reach out, grabbing his sleeve roughly. "Alfred!" He shouted. "Um, there you are I was looking for you, um about yesterday listen I um…"

"E-Excuse me?" The boy squeaked, looking startled.

Arthur paused, frowning, looking more closely at the boy. Then he swore. He certainly looked like Alfred, but slightly scrawnier, and his hair was much more well kempt. "Err, my bad," Arthur muttered, letting go of the kid's arm. "You looked like someone else."

The kid laughed weakly. "I-It's fine, we've…only had a few classes togeth—"

Arthur took off before the boy could finish, scanning the crowd for that idiot with the glasses and the messy blond hair. _Think, Arthur,_He told himself._He doesn't know his way around the school. Where could he have gone?_

Then a thought occurred to him. Stumbling to a stop, he spun around and dashing in the other direction. He sprinted hard, almost running straight into one of the foreign kids. (Was he from Latvia…? Something like that.) "MOVE!" Arthur bellowed furiously. The kid yelped and jumped out of the way.

He ran through several more hallways, almost knocking some people down some stairs and narrowly avoiding Gilbert's leg when he tried to trip him before he finally caught sight of the main offices. And, more importantly, the tall boy leaning just outside the wooden door.

"Hey! Git!" Arthur called. The kid sat up, looking over at him. He frowned slightly, looking confused. Arthur lurched to a stop in front of him, gasping for air. "I-I mean…I mean Alfred…" He amended weakly.

Alfred snickered. "Dude, did you run here?" He questioned him, sending him an insolent smirk.

Arthur took another deep breath. "What, no, of course not," he shot back, straightening back up with a grimace. "Why the hell would I run here, that would be stupid." He took another gulp of air. "A-Anyway, do you need me to show you where the study hall is again?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Um…sure…?"

Arthur nodded, finally beginning to catch his breath. "R-Right. Right. Okay, hurry up or we'll be late," he told him, turning around and heading down the hallway. Alfred didn't move for a moment, but eventually followed after him, looking suspicious.

They made it to the study hall just as the bell began to ring and all of the students started scrambling to their seats. "Everyone sit down!" The teacher's nasally voice rang out over the din of the room as Alfred and Arthur took their seats.

Arthur glanced over at the boy next to him. He was much more silent than he had been yesterday, staring off into space. Arthur sighed, not completely sure if he needed to say anything. "U-Um, so, about yesterday," he muttered eventually.

Alfred looked over, scowling. "Yeah, thanks for leaving me," he replied sarcastically. "I mean, I completely missed lunch!"

Arthur grimaced. "E-Err, right, well, it was just, I had to get to my locker before class and it was on the other side of the school so I had to…but I'm…you know…s…sorry…about leaving," he finished lamely, only just managing to force the word 'sorry' out of his mouth. Along with that awful excuse he just thought up. Ugh.

Alfred didn't reply for a second. Arthur glanced up at him, still grimacing, hoping Alfred would buy that half-arsed apology and not report him. Did he buy it? He couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"…um…" Alfred started, then paused again. "Oh, uh…well…no prob, I guess."

Arthur blinked. "R-Really?" He asked incredulously, then clamped his mouth shut, hoping he didn't sound too surprised.

Alfred shrugged. "Yeah, it's not that big a deal I guess. I mean, the boiler room isn't that scary."

Arthur frowned. "The what?"

"Boiler room," Alfred replied as if that were a perfectly normal thing to say. "I mean, sure it's dark and looks like you could hide a body in it, but it's not really so bad after the first hour."

Arthur stared blankly at him, his mouth hanging open slightly. Then, realizing that wasn't really an effective way of winning friends, he shut it. Then flinched when the scrape across his jaw began to sting. "Ack. Bloody hell," he muttered bitterly, rubbing at it. "How did they even manage to trip me…?"

Alfred stiffened slightly. "I-I dunno weird how that happens huh hey where d' you think Gilbert and Antonio are today?" He asked quickly looking around.

Arthur raised a massive eyebrow and glanced up at the empty seats usually occupied by the two. "They probably snuck out," he replied, oblivious to Alfred's unease. "They do that practically every other day. I doubt they've ever come here for more than three days in a row."

Alfred pouted slightly. "Dang, they seemed cool," he muttered.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Trust me, they're pretty much the biggest losers in the school."

"Really? Huh. I thought they said that was supposed to be you." Arthur flinched and glared at him, but Alfred didn't seem to notice. He thought pointedly for a minute. "Well what're the cool kids like?"

"Well most of them are arses," Arthur muttered darkly, still fuming, "some of them are bigots, a few of them are tossers, and all of them are horrible, brainless gits."

"W…Well that doesn't sound all that cool…" Alfred mumbled back.

"Because they're not," Arthur shot back, starting to get extremely annoyed. "It's all superficial nonsense. And I'd much rather not have friends than try to act like a pretentious git." He absentmindedly rubbed the yellowing bruise on his stomach as he spoke, glaring at the table.

Alfred cocked his head. "You don't even want friends?" He questioned. "Man, you are one weird human, Arthur."

Arthur shifted his glare toward Alfred. "What?"

Alfred coughed. "Um, nothin'," he muttered. "Sooo, how you go about getting popular and shit, huh?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Well the easiest way would be to beat up one of the foreign students," he grumbled, his eyes drifting toward the Italian boy that seemed to burst into tears whenever Arthur came within five feet of him.

"…foreign kids," Alfred repeated, not even looking in the same direction.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, sure, why the hell not? It's what they do anyway."

Alfred glanced toward him. Then he hopped to his feet. "Alright, I'm gonna go beat someone up!" He announced.

Arthur paused. "…w…wait, what?" He stammered, turning toward the taller boy.

"Yeah, it's gonna be pretty bad ass," Alfred said conversationally. As if this was completely normal behavior. "Well, see ya' later." He grinned and started off.

"W-Wait that wasn't an invitation to…you can't just…you…oh bugger off," Arthur finished, turning away and shaking his head. "Crazy idiot…"

He sighed to himself, reaching into his bag and pulling out some crumpled up papers. _Well, at least I'm not being expelled,_ he thought to himself._So I still have a chance of going home. Just have to keep the git happy…good thing he's stupid._

He stared blankly at the wrinkled papers lying on the table. It suddenly seemed much quieter with the idiot off to go…do whatever he was planning to do. He glanced up toward the empty seat next to him. It was weird; normally he'd be much happier without the nuisance around.

…

He hadn't exactly lied when he said he wasn't planning on being a pretentious git to win friends but…well he did sort of wish he had _some_friends… Not that he particularly wanted Alfred for a friend, but…

"Hey you!" Alfred's voice rang out loud over the low murmur of students. "Give me your lunch money!"

The room suddenly went dead silent. Not even so much as a whisper. Arthur paused what he was doing, confused. He glanced up.

And he almost screamed.

"Um, privet, comrade," Ivan, the largest, and most violent student in the school, replied slowly, his violet eyes regarding Alfred F. Jones with the same sort of confused expression a bear would have when being assaulted by a mouse. The entire room stared at them, all holding their breath.

"You're foreign, right?" Alfred asked him loudly, arms crossed confidently, even though he was several inches shorter than Ivan was. And certainly less muscular. And had a much shorter lifespan. "Yeah, give me your lunch money before I break that huge-ass nose of yours—"

Arthur grabbed his throat. "_Alfred are you f*cking crazy,_" he hissed, then turned toward Ivan. "S-Sorry about that, don't mind him…"

Ivan looked down at both of them, then gave Arthur a creepy, childlike smile. "Oh, hello Arthur," he greeted. "He is your pet then, da? You should keep him on a leash."

"Ah hah hah right my bad," Arthur laughed uncomfortably, pulling Alfred away as quickly as he could. "_Are—You—Bloody—Insane?_" He hissed under his breath.

"Dude, it was your idea—"

"_**This was not what I meant,**_" he whispered frantically, sending a glance toward the large Russian boy watching them curiously.

"I mean, he's foreign, isn't he?" Alfred asked. "He's got an accent. What's the big deal?"

"A-Are you stupid?" He spluttered. "That's Ivan Braginski!"

"Yeah, he's from Russia or some shit right? Is that place still communist?"

Arthur could see Ivan's face darken out of the corner of his eye. "_Yes he is from Russia and no it is not communist now quit bothering him or I'll be forced to scrape you off of the sidewalk after he beats you to a bloody pulp and the school expels me—!_"

"I thought you wanted them to expel you—"

"_No I do not want them to expel me!_" Arthur practically screamed.

"Dude, calm down," Alfred told him. "I just gotta beat him up real quick and I'll be cool, right?"

Arthur almost tore his hair out. Then he grabbed Alfred's arm and dragged him backward, practically throwing him back into his seat. "That would only apply if he didn't murder you on the spot!" He growled. "And why the hell would you want to be popular?"

Alfred shrugged. "Hey, I'm new to this school stuff. I don't know how else to make friends."

Arthur froze, startled at the response. He looked over at Alfred. "You…" he tried to speak, but wasn't sure how to respond to that. Eventually he sighed. "I mean, you're just supposed to be yourself," he told him slowly. "That's how you…you know, make friends…" _Oh my god, am I giving out friendship advice? What the hell?_

Alfred thought about that for a second. "So what if 'being myself' involves beating Ivan up."

"It does not involve beating Ivan up," he snapped.

"I mean he smells drunk, he'd probably just fall over—"

"_Shut up he can still hear you!_"

"Not seeing your point here, Arthur."

Arthur groaned loudly, sitting down next to Alfred. "Good god, were you born this stupid or were you hit in the head?" He asked.

"I dunno, are those legit your eyebrows or did you paste carpet to your face?" Alfred replied without faltering. Arthur bristled slightly, glaring at him again, and Alfred started to laugh at him. "Dude, it's a joke!" He insisted. "Lighten up!"

Arthur remained glaring at him for a good minute, silent. Alfred's grin faded after a bit. "I mean," he continued after a second, "are we not allowed to joke like that? We're friends, right?"

Arthur blinked. "We're what now?"

They just looked blankly at each other for a moment. Both looking unsure of themselves. Were they…friends? Arthur certainly wasn't sure. He frowned at Alfred. The closest thing he had to a friend was Francis (and if you called him a friend you were either drunk or stupid). And he barely knew this Alfred kid.

But…there was something about Alfred that…he didn't mind too much he guessed…

"I…uh…sure, I guess," Arthur replied uncomfortably. "I guess we're…friends…(?)"

Alfred smiled. "Cool!" He replied, leaning back in his chair. "You're welcome."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Alfred just sent him another grin, laughing slightly. And Arthur began seriously worrying about Alfred's sanity. As well as his own. …It was going to be a long year, wasn't it…?

* * *

_I was planning on finishing this yesterday but I went to the zoo instead. Sorry. Had to see that goose that thinks he's a flamingo._

_I woke up at 3 AM today, remembered to do homework, went downstairs, realized I didn't actually have homework, then passed back out. So I am tired. Very tired. So I guess let me know if you see any errors I missed._

_I'm not sure whether to feel sorry for Ivan, Arthur, or Alfred...or maybe just all three..._


	6. My Big Mouth

_((A warning just in case: I use the f-word several times. And not 'fuck', though I do use that a few times too.))_

* * *

They fell into a sort of routine rather quickly. Every day, Arthur would walk with Alfred to several of his classes, and help him with his homework, and talk him out of 'bullying' Ivan, and sit with him during lunch. As it turned out, they had several classes together, even though Alfred was only a freshman (and holy shit had that startled Arthur).

For the first time in his life, Arthur began looking forward to coming to the school. Or to doing anything really. It used to be he'd come through those front doors with a bitter scowl on his face, only to be beat up and made fun of by the ungrateful idiots that he was forced to protect every day. He would lie in his bed every morning and shut his eyes, wishing he could stay there, that he could curl up and die.

Now, he'd still walk through the door with a scowl. And he still got his arse kicked every other day, and he still couldn't stand most of these worthless idiots he had to keep safe day in and day out. But now he had at least something he could look forward to. Even if that something was just a silly kid that didn't happen to find him completely worthless.

Alfred was a strange person, certainly. Arthur wasn't completely sure what it was, but there was definitely something about him that was odd…

But even stranger than that was the realization that Arthur didn't mind it all that much. Even if Alfred seemed to never know what was going on (he was so sheltered it was like he wasn't even from Earth), or seemed to always have a rude comment to make about his eyebrows at any given point, there was something in those bright blue eyes that made Arthur feel…well, something…

…It was probably just because Alfred was stupid…

Arthur snickered slightly as he thought about it, leaning calmly against the bleachers as a cool gust of wind ruffled his hair. Alfred glanced up from the grass, a bored expression on his face. "What?" He asked dully.

Arthur shrugged. "Nothing," he replied.

Alfred rolled his eyes, collapsing back into the lawn. "Dude, this is boring," he muttered. "When do we go back inside?"

"When the idiot whose mile is taking twenty minutes finally finishes," Arthur replied, glancing over at the scrawny Italian boy half-walking down the track.

It was gym class, which was one class Arthur could not stand. Not that he was particularly un-athletic, but the only sport he was good at was football (he refused to call is soccer). And then there was the swimming unit. Which required him to be shirtless. Which, seeing as most human beings didn't have wings, always proved fairly difficult. He skipped that unit every year (which was why he'd had to repeat gym class for the past four years).

He also couldn't swim. But that was a different matter entirely.

Alfred sat up, glowering at the boy still running. "Hey!" He yelled. "Hurry up! I wanna go inside!" The boy didn't seem to hear him, and Alfred sighed in response. "Dumbass," he muttered darkly.

Arthur didn't say anything. He wasn't sure whether he wanted Feliciano to finish quickly or not. If he finished quickly, the others in his class would be able to run to their next classes with enough time for Arthur to get changed. Of course, that would certainly leave plenty of time for him to get beaten up, as usual.

Course, if he took too long, Arthur might be able to postpone it. Either that, or Alfred actually sees it…

He'd managed to convince Alfred that he tripped. That he kicked a chair. That he was just clumsy, always finding a new way to get some sort of bruise or scrape. Now that he finally had a…a friend, he really didn't want him to finally see how much of a loser he really was…

Suddenly, Feliciano Vargas let out a frightened yelp and sprinted the remainder of the track, barreling past the gym teacher and straight into Ludwig Beilschmidt's stomach. Arthur jumped, looking over at them as Feliciano hugged Ludwig tightly, yelling something in Italian. "What the hell just happened?" He asked Alfred.

"I-I dunno," Alfred muttered, quickly pulling his hand away from the shadows beneath the bleachers. "But I guess we can go inside now!" He hopped to his feet. "Come on, Artie, let's go!"

"You will _not_ call me that," Arthur snapped.

"Come on, no nickname? You don't wanna be Artie? How 'bout Art? Arturo? Iggy?"

"That doesn't even remotely resemble my name!" Arthur snapped.

"Iggy it is~!"

"Call me Iggy and I kick you."

Alfred pouted at him. "You're no fun, dude," he told him as the two of them strode into the large crooked doors leading to the locker room. "Ugh, gym class is stupid," he said as he pulled his grey gym shirt over his head. "Why do they even have this class?"

Arthur shrugged, looking at his friend out of the corner of his eye. "Who knows?" He muttered. Alfred was almost the epitome of attractive: tall, blond, blue eyes, perfect teeth, and a moderately toned body. Arthur wasn't sure if he should feel jealous or…or…wait what else would he possibly feel? He shook his head slightly, grimacing.

"You okay man?" Arthur asked him, pulling a t-shirt over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"Fine," he replied curtly, glaring at him then abruptly turning away as Alfred started fixing his pants.

"You sure? Eh whatever. So do we have to take this class all year? That's bull. I mean, who the hell likes running this much? Beside that Ludwig guy, he's crazy though. Anyway where'd I put my jeans? Oh wait, got 'em!" Alfred triumphantly held up his pants.

"You must be so proud," Arthur muttered, intensely watching a small spider on the wall.

"Ha ha, yeah, stupid things." He started pulling them on. "Hey Arthur, how come you don't usually get changed?"

Arthur sighed. "Because I don't particularly enjoy the fact that there aren't separate changing areas," he told him simply, hoping that Alfred would stop asking questions.

Alfred glanced around. "Other people don't mind much though," he commented.

Arthur glanced toward the others. Toris was currently trying to talk Feliks out of wearing a plaited skirt, and Feliciano was being screamed at by Ludwig for almost forgetting pants as he walked out the door. Again. "…Please don't compare me to them…"

Alfred laughed. "Pfft, no way dude, you are not a normal person."

Arthur paused. "A-And what's that supposed to—?"

The bell cut him off with a shrill ringing. "Oh shit, gotta run, see ya' Arthur!" Alfred dashed out the door, running past the other kids scrambling to grab their things as he zipped his jeans.

Arthur watched the door he'd left through for a moment. Just for a second, it'd almost sounded like Alfred suspected something… He shook his head. Of course not, there was no reason that would happen.

It took thirty seconds for the room to clear out. Arthur quickly pulled his shirt off. He was wearing a wrinkled white tee underneath, but he still much preferred going without the chance of someone noticing the outline of his wings through it. He tugged his button-down shirt over his shoulders quickly—

_WHAM_

His head was slammed forward into the cold metal locker. He yelped, stars flashing in front of his eyes. Grimacing, he stood there, trying to regain his bearings. He could hear someone laughing behind him, or maybe it was two 'someone's'. He sighed slightly, turning around.

There was a class that used the gym after Arthur's gym class. 'Wellness Fitness Training' or some other ridiculous sounding thing for the students who failed every other class involving the use of their brains. It was mostly some of the stupider jocks, or more specifically the ones that took the time to beat him senseless whenever they had the time.

Arthur glared darkly at the two leering at him. "Sod off," he told them, pushing past them as they continued laughing. _Just ignore them,_ he told himself. _Don't say anything…_

One of them shoved Arthur as he walked past. "What's wrong, fag?" The other called out.

"A fag is a cigarette," Arthur replied calmly, grabbing his backpack from the grey tiled floor and slinging it over his shoulder.

The first one blinked stupidly for a moment. Then he laughed at Arthur, obviously not understanding what he just said. "Thought you were gonna try to watch us change you stupid faggot—"

"Well, first off, I am not gay," Arthur interrupted hotly. "And normally I would ask why you automatically assume that I am, but judging from your second comment I'd imagine you're only using me to cover your own sexuality insecurities, which, let me be the first to say, is really quite pathetic."

There was a pause. Then another crash as Arthur was again slammed face first into the locker. "The fuck you say to me?"

Arthur winced, already starting to feel dizzy, a lump forming on his forehead. There was a reason Arthur got beat up more than some of the other students. That reason being he couldn't quite keep himself from talking back. He knew he shouldn't say anything, he really did…

"So I suppose this makes you deaf as well as horribly stupid?" Arthur replied dryly over his shoulder before he could stop himself. "Wow, no wonder you have to beat me up to feel important."

Another pause. Arthur grimaced even before the fist collided with his stomach, already knowing what was coming. "You fuckin' queer!"

Even as Arthur slid to the floor, he managed to roll his eyes. "God, your insults get more creative every time," he told him. "Also, in response to that earlier comment about watching you change, even if I was gay I would not have nearly that low of a standard, you pathetic prick."

Arthur glared up at the two, allowing himself a small smirk. Then braced himself as another fist slammed into his jaw.

…

Alfred collapsed into his chair with a sigh. Man was he glad to be out of gym, the class was a waste of time. Not that English was much of a class either. And then there was the bonus of not having Arthur to hang out with in English. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

He liked hanging out with Arthur. It was a weird feeling, having a friend. Not that Kiku didn't count, but they only ever talked through the phone, and even when they'd both lived in Hell Kiku wasn't exactly eager to talk to him most of the time. Arthur was easy to talk to, even when Alfred ended up doing most of the talking. It was nice.

"Um, Alfred?"

Alfred jumped, looking up at the kid standing over him. "Oh, uh, hey there…um, Max!"

"I-It's Matthew," the boy corrected weakly.

"…right," he replied. "Matt. Got it." He grinned at the kid. "My bad. You need somethin' dude?"

"Yeah, you're kind of sitting in my seat," he mumbled.

Alfred blinked. He looked around. "Oh, my bad," he muttered, laughing. On the first day, the teacher had mistaken him for Matthew and given him his desk. "Sorry, Mark, lemme just move my backpack—"

He reached down then froze, realizing his backpack wasn't there.

"…uh…" Alfred looked around, under the desk, behind his seat. "Where did—?" He paused, realizing where his things were. "Aw damn, I think I forgot it in my gym locker," he groaned. He hopped to his feet. "Hey Mike, could'ya tell the teacher I got to run to the gym real quick?"

Matthew frowned. "Um, I don't think you'll have enough time—"

"Thanks dude!" Alfred dashed for the door.

Matt blinked, then jumped up, running to the door and peaking out. "W-Wait, Alfred I really don't think—"

"Alfred Jones, sit down!" The teacher snapped at Matthew suddenly, as the bell began to ring loudly in his ears.

Matthew turned. "H-Huh? B-But I'm Matt—" The teacher glared at him, and he weakly sighed in defeat. "Yes sir…"

Alfred ran down the hallway, scowling. If only his English class was near the gym doors, that would've made it a hell of a lot easier to grab his things and get back. He skidded round the corner and toward the rusting grey doors that led to the even greyer locker rooms. Damn, the school really needed to spruce the place up.

He pulled the grimy door open as quietly as he could, wondering if there was anyone even there. As it turned out there was, but they were being loud enough that Alfred probably didn't need to try to sneak in. Alfred paused for a moment, listening. He could hear a few people shouting cuss words, and the dull thud of something hitting against a locker.

Alfred winced slightly. _Jeez, that sounds painful,_ he thought idly to himself, slipping closer to the noise. It sounded like it was coming from near his locker, so he was probably going to have to get past them somehow.

A thought crossed his mind: _Hey, if I help them out, maybe I'd get popular!_ He perked up at the idea. Arthur kept talking him out of beating Ivan up (poor Ivan was probably terrified of him by now), but he hadn't quite given up on the idea. Even Kiku had agreed that being more popular could help him try to hunt down the angel, although he wasn't sure if he agreed about the 'beating someone up' part.

Alfred grinned confidently, leaning against the lockers, and then peaked around.

He didn't move for a moment. The grin disappeared almost instantaneously, falling into a confused stare, his eyes widening as he caught sight of a pair of green eyes, and a familiar face, and a familiar person lying on the floor.

"Hahaha aren't you gonna get up you worthless piece of shi—"

Alfred slammed the nearest person as hard as he could into the wall with a loud _crash_. And the room abruptly went silent.

"Hey there," Alfred said darkly, gripping the boy's arm painfully tight. "Name's Alfred F. Jones."

Arthur sat up slightly, one eye almost completely swollen shut. He squinted up at Alfred, dizzy and confused. "A-Alfred? What the hell are you—?"

The one Alfred had shoved knocked him back slightly. "Who the hell are you?"

Alfred glared at both of them. "I'm Arthur's friend," he told him. "Y'know, the guy you're beating up?"

The other snickered, glancing down at Arthur. "Haha, another fag. Didn't know you got a boyfriend," he laughed, planting a firm kick in Arthur's side, causing him to yelp, doubling over.

Alfred stiffened slightly. And without moving a muscle, both of the others were smashed face first into the lockers. There was another stunned silence. The two guys straightened back up, confused. "The hell just—?"

"Y'know, I think we did this wrong," Alfred said darkly. "Lemme start again. Hi!" His eyes had turned a deep scarlet. "Name's Alfred F. Jones."

The two stared at him, blood draining from their faces. Arthur groaned slightly, but his face was planted on the floor. Alfred took a step forward. "So you're kind of beating up my friend," he said coolly, and the lights above their heads suddenly shattered with a sharp crack. The boys yelped, stumbling backward. "So, um, you're gonna stop doing that."

One of them, the clearly stupid one of the pair, spoke up. "Why the hell you give a shit about some worthless queer?"

Alfred froze midstep. "…'scuse me?" He asked. And the door suddenly locked with a resounding _click_. The shadows around them were shifting slightly, like beasts waiting to strike. The room was frozen for a moment, no one breathing.

And all three of them jumped when Alfred's phone went off.

Alfred glanced down, at the phone in his pocket. It was Kiku. Of course it was Kiku. Alfred looked back up at the terrified boys standing in front of him.

So much for subtlety.

Alfred took a deep breath. "Alright," he said slowly, the shadows beginning to settle. "Here's how this works. You're gonna leave here with two conditions, alright? One: You're not gonna tell anyone 'bout this. Ever."

The two nodded frantically.

"And rule number two." He stepped forward, grabbing both of their collars. "Touch my friend again, and you don't wake up the next day."

There was silence. The door unlocked, and Alfred let them go. And two boys ran from the room screaming.

Alfred stood there, shaking slightly. The human body felt faintly like it would rip apart any second. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. This disguise definitely wasn't built for that much exertion. He gulped a few more breaths of air before he managed to stop trembling uncontrollably, and turned around.

He knew he should probably call Kiku back. And that he was completely screwed when he did.

He took a deep breath and silently walked back over toward his friend, still lying on the floor. "Dude?" He bent down. "Arthur, you okay?"

Arthur glanced up dizzily. "Where'd the lights go?"

Alfred coughed. "Um, power surge? Maybe your eyes are just going. Dunno, it's pretty weird." Arthur didn't say anything back. Alfred glanced around, unsure of what to do. Finally, he reached down and pulled Arthur to his feet. "Come on, Arthur, let's get you some ice…"

* * *

_(Ugh hate that word.)_

_This is dedicated to the idiot sitting next to me. She is beyutaful and intellegint. And stuff. Right. Sure. Hi Rachel._

_Just gonna explain how Alfred's disguise works real quick: His human body's kinda like a shell, one which can and will break if he goes apeshit too much. It's not like he's possessing anyone or anything. Yup. Clarified._


	7. Bruised and Battered

It felt like an eternity for Alfred and Arthur to make their way to the nurse's office. Arthur gritted his teeth as they walked, forcing himself to move quickly. He flinched every time he stepped onto his left leg, where those two guys had kicked him. He also grimaced every time he took a breath, feeling his ribs bruised. Every step shot pain through his back, as well as his wings, where they'd been slammed into the wall. He'd had plenty of beatings, but this one definitely made it into the top ten. No, what was he saying; this one was by far the worst.

Alfred was walking next to him, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to look at his only friend, instead keeping his eyes focused on the linoleum floor. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Alfred glance toward him every few seconds, but he remained silent, they both did.

Arthur had never felt so humiliated in his life. His chest hurt, his leg was throbbing, and he could barely see with one eye swelled shut and the gigantic lump on his head making him dizzy. He knew he must've looked absolutely pathetic. God, what did Alfred think of him now? He tried to glance up, but found he couldn't bear to. Did Alfred pity him? Did he think he was pathetic? Why the hell was he walking with him to the nurse's anyway? Damn Arthur felt miserable…

By the time the two of them finally reached the door to the nurse's office, Arthur felt himself swaying on the spot. His legs felt like jell-o and his head was pounding like an overzealous bass drum. He stood there trying to regain his bearings as Alfred pushed the door open. "Hey, nurse lady, you got any ice?" He called out.

There was a pause before the nurse answered, "Do you have a pass?"

"…a what?" Alfred asked incredulously. "Why the hell do you need a pass to go to the nurse?"

"I don't make the rules," she answered. "Go get a pass."

"Are you kidding me?" Alfred groaned, but for some reason it was starting to sound muffled and far-off in Arthur's ears. "Can't you make an exception? Just this once?"

"Sorry, I really can't. You're just going to have to get one."

The world was tilting dangerously. Arthur shut his eyes tightly for a second.

Alfred sighed, turning back toward him. "Yo dude, what class are you supposed to be in, I guess we gotta run and get a pass or…whoa, dude are you alright—?"

Arthur pitched forward suddenly and slammed face first into Alfred's chest. Alfred yelped, grabbing Arthur's arms before he fell completely over. "Shit, Arthur, you okay?" He asked anxiously, trying to pull Arthur back to his feet. "Dude?"

"I-I-I…I'm fine," Arthur stammered, his face still pressed against Alfred's chest. He shakily grabbed Alfred's arms, pushing himself shakily back to his feet. "I-I'm fine," he stammered again, feeling his face turning red.

Alfred frowned at him, still not letting go of Arthur's arms. "You sure man?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Arthur snapped, feeling much too close to Alfred at the moment. "It was just…I just…lost my balance for a second." He took a shaky breath. "So let go. Now."

Alfred scowled, dropping his arms to his sides. "Kay," he said slowly, not looking wholly convinced. "If you're sure…"

The nurse groaned slightly, causing both of them to jump. "Alright, just come in," she told them, looking annoyed.

Alfred and Arthur blinked. Then they coughed, Alfred rubbing his arm sheepishly. "Right, okay. Thanks."

They strode inside as the nurse stood up. "I'll get a few ice packs. Sit on that cot." She walked into the next room.

Arthur did as he was told, pulling himself onto the old…um, well, he supposed it resembled a bed…sort of… Either way, he climbed up and settled against the hard plastic backing with a soft groan. Admittedly, he felt much better after getting off his feet.

Alfred sat himself down in a nearby chair. "So this is the nurse's office."

"Uh-huh," Arthur muttered back.

Alfred looked around. Then he laughed suddenly, leaning back in his seat. "Wow, so I just realized I still forgot my backpack in the locker room," he told Arthur. "Weird, right?"

Arthur didn't answer for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. "Yeah. Weird," he mumbled softly.

Alfred glanced over at him. "So…how're you feeling?" He asked.

Arthur shut his eyes. "…Alfred, go away."

Blinking, Alfred sat up. "Um…what?"

Arthur shrugged. "Go back to class," he told him. "Go get your backpack or whatever, I really don't care." He opened one eye, glaring sullenly at Alfred. "You don't have to stay here."

Alfred looked back at him. "Well, yeah I don't have to, but I want to."

Arthur stared at him for a second. Then he shook his head. "Why?" He asked, rubbing his head.

"'Cause you're my friend, dumbass."

"…how convincing," he muttered dryly.

"Come on, Artie," Alfred laughed, "I worked way too hard at saving your ass to not make sure you were okay!"

Arthur turned away. "…you…really didn't have to do that, you know," he said quietly.

Alfred raised his eyebrow. "What, save your ass?" Arthur didn't answer him, and Alfred cocked his head slightly. "Dude, Arthur, how hard did those guys hit your head?" He asked, smirking slightly. "You're talking all crazy."

Arthur sighed and tentatively rolled onto his side, away from Alfred. "Ugh, never mind," he shot back. "I really don't care."

Confused, Alfred just looked at him. They were quiet for another minute. Alfred thought hard, leaning back and crossing his arms. He glanced over toward Arthur again, and a faint smirk crossed his face. Then, calmly, he said, "So anyway, did _you_ know I was gay?"

Arthur stiffened, eyes wide. He sat up, turning almost completely around. "W-Wait, what?" He stammered.

"Yeah, I know, totally surprised me too!" Alfred's smirk grew at Arthur's confusion. "Did not see that coming. But I guess since those guys in the locker room called me a fag, I gotta be gay right?"

Arthur's jaw almost hit the floor. "…e-excuse me?" He asked incredulously.

"Still, I mean, what a shitty plot twist," Alfred continued calmly. "Oh and I seriously did not realize we were dating either, when'd that happen?"

Arthur groaned, face-palming. "Alfred, you're an idiot."

Alfred's grin fell into a childish pout. "What? Why?"

"You're not suddenly gay because two idiots in the locker room told you that you're a…" He paused, grimacing. "…told you that you're, you know, gay."

"So they were wrong?" Alfred asked. "Damn, seriously? Jeez, what else were they wrong about?"

There was a pause. Then, he added, "Y'know, I bet they were wrong about you being a worthless fag."

Arthur froze. He stared at Alfred, his mouth still hanging open slightly, suddenly at a complete loss for words. "…I…w-what?" He half whispered.

Alfred shrugged. "I mean, if they were wrong 'bout _me_, I'm not seeing how they could possibly be right about you," he said. And he turned toward Arthur, giving him a small smile.

Arthur found himself staring at those mischievous blue eyes, finding it impossible to breathe for a moment. He clamped his mouth shut tightly, his face suddenly warm and his eyes suddenly wet. He grimaced and cursed, turning away abruptly, thankful when Alfred didn't say anything else as he surreptitiously wiped his eye with the palm of his hand.

They were silent for almost a minute, before Arthur finally found his voice. "…thanks," he murmured.

"No prob'!" Came Alfred's reply. "I'm a pro at pep talks."

Arthur scowled at him. "No, not for…I-I mean, yes for…" he shook his head, trying to figure out what to say. "Yes, I…well thanks for that but…but I meant for…I mean, no, I…just…" He groaned. God, how hard was it supposed to be to thank someone?

Alfred just leaned back, arms behind his head. "For saving your ass you mean?" He asked. "Yeah, that was pretty great of me."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Don't you start getting an inflated head about it," he said crossly, lying back. "I get enough narcissism from Beilschmidt without you prancing around like you're some sort of moronic superhero."

"Some sorta what?"

Arthur looked at him incredulously. "Really, Alfred? Really?" Alfred seemed to shrink slightly as Arthur spoke. "Did your parents not let you leave your house or are you really just that inattentive?"

"I…uh…" Alfred coughed, "…used to be allergic to the sun…"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Right, sure," he muttered. "Anyway, superheroes. Those obnoxious guys with superpowers that fly around helping people or whatever it is they're supposed to do." He shrugged. "I don't know, you just seem like the kind of guy that would like that sort of stuff."

Alfred laughed. "Heh heh, okay? Good to know."

The nurse strode in, carrying several plastic bags full of ice. She walked over, handing them to Arthur, telling him to ice his bruises in intervals of ten minutes. He thanked her, putting one of the bags over his eye and hissing in pain as he lent back. "Ugh…"

"Could've been worse," Alfred told him.

Arthur almost snapped back at him, but his retort died on his tongue as he met Alfred's sky-blue eyes. It took him a moment to think of something to say in response. Eventually he turned back toward the wall, mumbling, "I-I suppose it could've—"

Alfred's phone rang. They both jumped, turning to stare at it. Arthur noticed the blood drain from Alfred's face out of the corner of his eye. He turned to look up at him, but Alfred was already on his feet, pulling his phone from his jacket pocket. "I-I think I gotta get this," he mumbled, voice shaking ever so slightly, and quickly dashed from the room.

…

Alfred gulped, staring at the phone. Gingerly pressing the talk button, he brought the phone up to his ears. "…um, hey Kiku," he said, finding himself chuckling nervously. The other line was dead silent. "S-So, how're things in Hell…?" He tried weakly. Kiku still didn't reply. Finally, Alfred sighed. "You, um…you mad at me—?"

"_W-What were you thinking?_" Kiku almost shouted, though he sounded much more hysteric than angry. Alfred cringed, lowering the phone slightly. "_Do you have any idea how much trouble you—?_"

"Dude, don't worry, they're not gonna tell anyone!" Alfred protested, cutting his friend off.

"What if one of them was the angel?" Kiku objected. "You practically destroyed your human body and—"

"Neither of those pieces of shit were angels!" Alfred snapped back. "And my body is perfectly fine—"

"Alfred-kun please, you do not understand, so many demons are angry right now—"

"Well why don't you tell 'em to go fuck themselves—!"

"_**Alfred-kun!**_"

There was a pause. Alfred stood there for a moment, mouth hanging open like a fish. "G-Gomen'nasai," Kiku murmured uncomfortably after a moment. "I-I'm sorry, but Alfred-kun, please, there're…there're demons here that are very angry. They…" He paused again. "…A-Alfred-kun, you could be in danger if you do something that noticeable again."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Yeah, dude, I get it, the angel guy'll get me—"

"Not just the angel."

That sentence hung ominously in the air. Maybe Alfred was imagining it, but the temperature in the small hallway he was standing in seemed to have dropped a few degrees. He stood silently, feeling a pit form in his stomach. "…oh…"

"…sorry," Kiku murmured again.

Alfred nodded slowly. "Yeah, right. No problem."

Kiku sighed slightly. "…Alfred-kun," he said after a second, "what were you thinking…?"

Alfred didn't answer for a moment. He glanced back toward the nurse's office. Toward Arthur. "…I…I dunno," he replied uncertainly.

He'd forgotten for a moment that Kiku could see him, startled when he said, "You are becoming attached to that human."

"No I'm not," he replied quickly, suddenly feeling defensive. "Just like hanging with the dude is all. Haven't you ever just liked hanging out with a dude?"

"…Alfred-kun, you need to stop," Kiku told him. Alfred grimaced, but Kiku continued. "You have to be careful. Please, Alfred-kun, I am…I am asking you as a friend."

Alfred stared at the door, silently. He wondered if it was weird that he felt so numb. He tried to think of some sort of argument to make, but he knew Kiku was probably right. It wasn't often that Kiku tried to tell him what to do in the first place.

"…Kiku, I gotta go…"

He heard Kiku sit up in his chair. "What? N-No, wait, Alfre—"

Alfred hung up.

He immediately wanted to go back to the nurse's office. But his feet were rooted to the floor. He glanced over his shoulder. The nurse's office was near the front of the school. He could see the hallway leading to the exit just several feet away. He turned back.

…

What was he supposed to do now…?

…

He shut his eyes, took a breath, and took a few steps forward, pulling the door to the nurse's office open.

Arthur, still lying on the cot, perked up slightly. "Alfred," he called, "you realize you're not supposed to be on your phone in here, right? Who were you talking to—?"

"Excuse me Mrs. Nurse Lady I don't feel well I'm going to go home," he spluttered quickly, not looking at Arthur, then turned, not waiting for an answer before he dashed out the door.

He heard Arthur sit up behind him. "Wait, Alfred, where're you—?"

The door slammed shut loudly behind him, and Alfred lost the rest of his sentence.

* * *

_Anyone else have nurse's offices that require passes? It's so obnoxious._

_This has been an exhausting week for me, but I still managed to write this. I think. Ugh...my brain hurts..._

_Alfred sure is good at cheering people up, huh?_


	8. Switch

After the clamor of kids scrambling to their seats died down, and the final toll of the school bell faded away, Arthur Kirkland remained perfectly still, his eyes fixed pointedly on the doorway. The faint murmur of students' whispering was tuned out as he stared, his gaze eventually turning toward the chair next to him, empty.

Alfred hadn't returned after he'd left the day before. Arthur had remained in the nurse's office for the rest of the period, confused and alone, before he was sent back to his class. So he'd limped back to his classroom and stumbled through the rest of the school day in a pained, sullen daze, wondering where the hell his only friend had run off to in such a hurry.

It's not that it mattered to him all that much. Hell, Arthur couldn't give any less of a damn what that moron did in his life. It was just…well…

…actually, Arthur wasn't sure why he cared so much. He'd only just met the kid. They had nothing in common. Arthur could barely stand the kid for a good portion of the time. Why did he care so much where he went, or why he'd looked so panicked? He shouldn't care.

Sighing, he glanced back over toward the door. And he caught sight of a pair of bright blue eyes, before they looked abruptly away . Arthur perked up, turning completely around in his chair as Alfred slowly made his way over.

"Alfred," he called, quietly of course, so he wouldn't get yelled at. "Where the hell did you run off to?"

Alfred's eyes remained fixed somewhere off to the side. "Family emergency," he said tonelessly.

Arthur's face fell slightly. Already something wasn't right. "Really," he responded slowly. "Is everything alright—?"

"Fine."

Arthur went silent, startled. Alfred glanced toward him, but the usually mischievous gleam in his blue eyes was absent, replaced with a dull, tired look. "Listen, I uh…" Alfred glanced away again, "I forgot to do some…some homework, so I'm gonna do that real quick…" And he edged away, to the opposite end of the table, eyes fixed on the ground, and sat down, his back toward Arthur.

Arthur stared at the boy's back, confused. _What the hell's gotten into him?_ He wondered, turning back toward the table. This was a complete turn-around from how he'd been acting yesterday. Or how he'd been acting since the day they'd met. What was going on…?

"Aw, did the happy couple get in a fight~?"

Arthur jumped, turning immediately in his seat to come face to face with a pair of red, leering eyes. Gilbert grinned at him, though his face fell slightly when he noticed the bruise on Arthur's face from the day before. "Whoa, scheiße, your face looks worse than usual, Eyebrows."

Arthur's eye narrowed furiously. "Alright, first of all, my name isn't Eyebrows," he muttered, "so stop calling me that. A-And what the hell do you mean by 'happy couple'?"

"You two aren't dating yet?" Another voice piped up, and Arthur was annoyed to find pair of green eyes and curly brown hair on his other side. "Huh, I could have sworn you were."

"Kesese, called it! They're still in the closet. Pay up, 'Tonio!" Gilbert held out his hand, grinning.

"What? No way!" Antonio looked pleadingly at Arthur. "Are you two sure you're not dating? Come on, I need to buy lunch today!"

Arthur's horrified face stared at the two of them. "W-Wait, are you two _betting_—?"

"W-Wait, you lost the bet about Ludwig and Feli!" Antonio protested, as if Arthur hadn't even spoken. "So we're even now!"

"Nein, they're totally going out!" Gilbert snapped back angrily. "Lud's just too much of a pussy to kiss him in public, but I mean you should see 'em when they're at my place—"

"—yeah right, I call bull—" Antonio interrupted.

"—you don't even know what that means—"

Arthur grabbed them both by the hair, cutting off their argument. "Are—you two—betting on this?" He growled slowly, glaring darkly at them.

Gilbert stiffened. He managed to stammer something incoherent before Antonio chimed in with a, "Sí, it's really fun!" Arthur slowly turned his glare toward the Spaniard, whose face blanched slightly. "I mean…um…no…?"

"C-Come on, it's a joke," Gilbert told him, pulling away quickly. "We're kidding. What's up with four-eyes over there anyway?" The two morons turned their attention to the boy sitting at the end of the table, much to Arthur's chagrin. "He pissed at you? What's up?"

Arthur let his eyes drift toward the end of the table too. "He…He forgot to do his homework," he replied, his own words ringing false as soon as they left his mouth. He knew that wasn't true; Alfred wasn't even doing anything. He just didn't want to sit by Arthur.

Did something those guys say actually get to him?

Gilbert and Antonio looked at each other as Arthur continued to gaze blankly at the back of Alfred's jacket. Gilbert mouthed something to his friend, turning his chair and placing his feet on the table. "Hey, know what," he said out loud, causing Arthur to glance up, "go and talk to him. It's what the awesome me would do!"

"Right and I definitely should be taking pointers from _your_ love life," Arthur muttered. "Have you ever even talked to a girl? One that doesn't beat you senseless I mean."

Antonio thought for a second as Gilbert scowled toward Arthur. "I think you should talk to him too."

Arthur glared at the both of them angrily. "First off, why the bloody hell do you two keep talking to me?" He snapped. "Second, why the hell do you think your social lives would be a good example of _anything_ other than how to get everyone to hate you?"

Antonio just shrugged. "I don't know. I was just trying to figure out what Francis would tell you…"

Arthur stared at him for a moment, startled. Then he sent a glance toward Gilbert, who'd suddenly gotten quiet, grin falling into a glower.

He'd almost forgotten that Francis had lived here too. Back when they were both banished to Earth, Francis had lived in this city before Arthur had. However, there were huge differences between Francis Bonnefoy and Arthur Kirkland. Francis was much more charismatic than Arthur, and made friends, and had admirers. (And a much stronger sex drive.)

And Francis had been reluctant to return to Heaven. Something which only confirmed Arthur's opinion that Francis was the hugest idiot in both this world and the next. But he'd still gone back home before Arthur, and his friends still tried to call him. Especially the two sitting right next to him.

Arthur eventually rolled his eyes. "Alright, how's this: If I go and talk to him, will you leave me alone for the rest of the day?"

"Sure."

"Ja, why not?"

"Good," Arthur muttered, then turned toward Alfred, slowly. He could see Alfred's face in profile, looking much more exhausted than he'd even seen, his blue eyes fixed blankly on the page of a book that he'd been on for the past ten minutes.

He didn't move for a moment. Then, taking a deep breath, he stood up, and slid quickly over to the chair next to Alfred.

…

Blue eyes fixed pointedly on the ratty book on the table, Alfred remained blissfully unaware of the conversation happening to his left. Not that he was reading (because Shakespeare was making _no effing sense_) but he refused to pay any attention. At all. Not like he cared much. Hell, Arthur was just some dumb human. He didn't care.

Running his fingers through his hair, he tried to focus on the words on the page inches from his nose. "_But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East and Juliet is the_—" god Romeo was so obnoxious why the hell would Juliet be the sun that was stupid she'd need to be on fire— "_arise fair sun, and kill the envious moon—_" what's so bad about the moon anyway, and by now the words were starting to blur together, stupid book.

Alfred shut his eyes and sighed, an inch away from slamming the damn book shut. He was supposed to read it for class, but why? What was the point? It was complete bullshit. He rubbed his eye with the palm of his hand, knocking his glasses askew, and yawned slightly.

He hadn't slept. He'd tried, he really had, but every time he tried to relax his mind drifted back to the angry boy with the funny accent he wasn't supposed to talk to anymore.

There was no way to avoid him, since they shared most of their classes. How was Alfred supposed to do this? Just ignore him, he guessed. _Shit, it's gonna be a long day…_ He thought bitterly, risking a quick glance up toward his friend.

Then he yelped and practically leapt out of his chair when he saw a familiar face only inches away from his own.

Arthur jumped too, sitting up with a jolt and a yelp of, "Bloody hell!" He steadied himself and rounded angrily on Alfred. "What the hell?" He snapped. "You practically blew out my eardrum!"

Alfred straightened shakily back up too. "Excuse me?" He asked. "You're the one that snuck up on me you creep!" He took a deep breath, his heart pounding painfully. "Dude, almost gave me a heart attack. The Hell're you doing anyway?"

Arthur blinked, remembering why he was there in the first place, and coughed, rubbing his arm. "Sorry, I was going to ask if you…um…needed any help with your homework. And, uh…well I got distracted by your book…"

Alfred glowered at him, then shut his book with a snap. "Well sorry, but I'm done reading."

Arthur looked at him, not answering for a moment, then asked, "In the middle of a chapter?"

He was met with a short silence, as Alfred uncomfortably stowed the book back into his backpack. "Um…yeah," he replied. "So I don't need any homework help."

"Oh…" Arthur's face fell. "…Okay…"

They were silent. Alfred focused his eyes on the far wall, and Arthur stared at his hands, and they sat there, unmoving. Arthur glanced over, looking unsure of himself. After a moment, he tried again. "Are you sure—?"

"Dude, I'm sure, now leave me alone," Alfred snapped at him.

Arthur flinched, then turned away, muttering a curt, "Right. Sorry."

Alfred glanced up at Arthur's disappointed emerald eyes. And in the back of his mind, he recalled that day only a few weeks ago, the day they'd met:

"_So what do we do now?"_

_"Do whatever the hell you want. I'm not here to babysit you."_

"_Oh. Right."_

There was a split second Alfred wanted nothing more than to burst out laughing. Then another where he felt more like crying. And a third moment where he wanted to do both, and he stood up quickly, and then the bell started ringing harshly in his ears. "Bye," he muttered, then slipped his backpack over his shoulder and dashed out the door.

Arthur remained in his seat for another minute, though, unsure of what to do.

* * *

_Wow. This chapter. Was._

_Ugh._

_How long did this take? Two weeks? Holy crap..._

_Okay, let's see...first it took forever to write, and then I read it over and realized it was awful, and started over. And then I got so much work and then I got sick and then I sat down today after almost puking and decided "Screw it, I am finishing _right now_."_

_Sorry about the wait. It might take some time to write the next one. You would not believe how much my work has been piling up._

_At least I finished this._


	9. Friendship and Such

It had taken three weeks for Alfred F. Jones and Arthur Kirkland to become best of friends.

And it took only three days before it was like they'd never even met.

…

It was crushingly silent as Alfred took his usual seat in the bathroom outside the study hall, sitting down on the large air-conditioner and leaning his head back against the tile wall. The room was empty, per usual, and he would most likely only have one or two others passing through. It wasn't his first choice of a hiding place, but it was the easiest he could sneak to on short notice.

He yawned slightly, his eyes falling on his own reflection in the cracked mirror. His hair, although usually fairly messy, stuck up in every direction, and his dull blue eyes were glowering back at him through the grimy surface of the glass.

He knew it'd been only three days, but it'd felt like forever. School life without his friend seemed to drag unbearably on and on. He'd told himself that he didn't even want to hang out with Arthur, every time he thought of something funny to tell him, or saw something funny, and he tried to brush it off. Demons didn't care about shit anyway.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, those bags under his eyes and his unbrushed hair, and the words _I'm not cut out for this _passed through his head. The thought had crossed his mind more and more frequently, and made him sick to his stomach. He wondered how long he'd survive if he messed up again.

There was a creak as the door was pulled open. Alfred sighed and sent an irritated glance up, expecting to see Gilbert and Antonio sneaking through, or that one older kid that was always smoking weed in the farthest stall.

Instead he was greeted with a pair of weary emerald eyes, glaring back at him.

Alfred and Arthur regarded each other silently, unsure of what to do, what to say. Arthur was the first to move, looking as if he wanted to speak but instead clenching his teeth and ducking away into the nearest stall. Alfred took that as his cue to climb to his feet and slip out the door, sending a single glance over his shoulder.

That was how the past three days had been. Arthur had tried to talk to him the first day, but now they'd turn in opposite directions. Alfred wouldn't have minded nearly as much if Arthur hadn't just sat alone in his seat, sending him confused glares every once in a while.

The bell rang shortly after Alfred sat back in his seat. He glanced toward Arthur's seat, but the only thing there was his backpack, so he stood up and left.

He sat through his math class and his biology class in a tired daze, head lying on his desk, going through plan after plan on how to skip fourth period, which was Home Ec. He liked the class well enough (mostly since he hadn't gotten the hang of cooking for himself) but he'd sat next to Arthur on the first day. So he was stuck with Arthur as a cooking partner. (Which was bad even when they _were_ hanging out.)

He'd hung outside of the Home Ec. room for a few minutes before the bell rang, trying to think of something, before finally stepping through the threshold with his hands tucked in his pockets. He sat down in his seat, relieved that Arthur wasn't there yet. In fact, Arthur only just made it to class on time, stumbling through the door as the bell went off.

Arthur dragged himself into his seat, panting as if he'd run the whole way. Sighing deeply, he started rummaging through his backpack with a sullen scowl. "Hey Alfred, were we supposed to fill out that one worksheet by today or—" He stopped talking when he glanced up, remembering that Alfred wasn't talking to him. "…ugh, never mind."

The teacher had begun talking, but no one really took the class seriously, so there were plenty of side conversations throughout the room. Alfred yawned, rubbing his misrible eyes. Arthur glanced at him and raised a massive eyebrow, smirking faintly. "And what's with you?"

Alfred shrugged noncommittally. "Doin' homework late," he replied.

Arthur's smirk faded as Alfred went back to not talking. He didn't say anything for a while, turning back toward the teacher. Alfred looked over too, and almost jumped out of his seat when Arthur suddenly rounded on him and hissed, "You know, just what the hell is your problem anyway?"

Alfred jumped slightly, then rolled his eyes. "Dude, can it."

"No, you know what, I won't 'can it,'" Arthur snapped angrily. "You've been ignoring me all week for no reason."

Alfred tried to think of a good retort. Unfortunately all that he managed to say was, "Have not."

"Yes you have!"

"Nuh uh."

"Yes you _have_!"

"Nope."

"_Alfred you irritating prick!_"

There was a loud thud as the teacher slammed a recipe down onto their shared table, scowling at them and stalking away. Alfred looked up at her, then glanced down at the recipe. "Aw man, no burgers?" He whined, disappointed he didn't get to make his new favorite snack (he found this awesome restaurant called McDonalds the other day it was the greatest thing ever).

Arthur elbowed him. "Why on Earth would we be making that slop?"

"Hey don't diss the burger," Alfred replied with a grin, remembering how Arthur had tried to make some weird recipe the week before and ended up setting the oven on fire. "Beats your crappy scone thingies any day!"

"E-Excuse me?" Arthur spluttered, his indignant face turning red. He glared down at the paper, snatching it up and reading it over. "Alright, let's get this over with. It says we need some sugar first…"

"Hey, lemme see the recipe!" Alfred said as Arthur started rummaging through the cupboard.

"You know what? No," Arthur snapped back. "I'll just make," he glanced at the paper, "whatever this is by myself!"

Alfred stared at him. "…w-whoa wait, what?" He hopped to his feet as Arthur grabbed some supplies. "Haha, alright, no, how about you give me that stuff and I'll make the food real quick."

"Why the hell should I?" He replied coolly. "Why don't you go sod off and leave me alone?"

"Dude, are you crazy?" Alfred asked. "Remember last week? You burnt the ice cream! The _ice cream_! We weren't even cooking that, how'd you even burn it, give me that spoon!"

"No, I got it first, stop that _hey_!" Alfred had grabbed onto the wooden spoon Arthur had grabbed and tugged it out of his hand, and Arthur in response grabbed a bowl and swung it at Alfred's arm. "You bloody moron, give me that back I was cooking!" He shouted in protest.

"Ow, quit hitting me!" By this point Alfred had begun swatting back at him with the spoon. "Stop it! Ow, jackass, it's my spoon now!" Most of the room had stopped what they were doing to watch them as they hit at each other, both shouting loudly.

"Stop it you prick!"

"Ouch! Make me!"

"Wanker!"

"Douche bag!"

Arthur shoved him away. "What—the hell—did I do?" He shouted suddenly.

There was a long silence. If Alfred had been paying any attention, he would've noticed that every pair of eyes in the room was focused on the two of them. But, as usual, he wasn't.

"What the hell did I do?" Arthur repeated with a snarl, his voice dripping with venom. "Why the fucking hell have you been ignoring me all week? What did I do to _offend_ you, exactly? Did I say something? Did I do something? Is it because I'm a _worthless fag_?" He slammed the bowl onto the table with an earsplitting crack. "You know what, I _really_ don't care," he decided, grabbing his backpack off his chair. "I'm done. I am going home. Hope you don't mind, but you probably won't care since you'll still be able to avoid me that much easier." And with that, he stormed out the door.

A cold silence fell over the room, everyone either staring at Alfred or the door his friend had slammed shut behind him. Alfred didn't move for thirty seconds, his mouth hanging open slightly. Then he started toward the door. He stumbled to a stop as he grabbed the handle, glancing back toward the teacher. "Um…c-can I just…real quick…?" The teacher nodded slowly, and Alfred slipped out the door.

"Yo Artie!" He called loudly, dashing down the hallway toward Arthur's back. "Arthur! Dude, wait up!"

He glanced over his shoulder, green eyes dulled and angry. He turned away quickly and continued walking double-time, but Alfred easily overtook him. "Arthur, wait a sec."

He stopped walking, eyes rolling slightly. "What do you want?"

At first Alfred couldn't think of a reason, and just stood there as Arthur glared at him. Then he tried, "Can I…say sorry?"

"No."

Alfred scowled. "What? Why not?"

"Oh, so I need a reason to ignore you, but you don't need one to ignore me. Quite the double standard isn't it," Arthur replied, arms folded across his chest.

Alfred laughed, sending a grin up toward Arthur, which disappeared quickly when he remembered that Arthur was angry at him. "R-Right, um…" he laughed again, nervous. "Would you feel better if you got to hold the spoon?"

Arthur blinked, then face-palmed. "No."

"Come on, don'tcha wanna hold the spoon?" He held up the large wooden spoon he'd forgotten to put down with a big smile.

"No, Alfred, I do not want to hold the spoon."

They stared at each other, Alfred trying to think of something to say. He thought about just going back to class, just leaving Arthur, ignoring him the way he had been doing. But…But he really…really hated that. He hated seeing his friend confused and alone…

Alfred pouted slightly, sighing. "Um, okay, how's this: I had stuff on my mind, and didn't really want to talk."

"Not very convincing," Arthur shot back.

A sigh escaped Alfred's mouth. He hated lying to Arthur too. God, friendship was difficult… Maybe he could just tell him—

_Ring ring ring_

They jumped at the sound of Alfred's cell phone, then, before Arthur could even react, Alfred had whipped his phone out, shouted, "_Not now Kiku,_"and slammed his thumb on the end button as Kiku started to stammer something. There was a pause. "Friend of yours?" Arthur asked, finally smirking slightly.

"Y-Yeah," Alfred mumbled. "He, uh, used to be my neighbor. We still chat a bunch."

"Right," Arthur said.

They both stood there, Alfred tucking his phone back into his pocket. He looked up at Arthur. Then, sending his phone one last glance, he said, "I've been ignoring you 'cause I got in trouble for hanging out with you."

Arthur stared at him for a moment, confused. A thought seemed to cross his mind. "I-Is it…because I'm gay?" He asked quietly.

"Wha..?" Alfred shook his head. "No, no course not, it's just…well, it's 'cause I um…" He thought for a second. "I'm uh, failing several classes," he told him finally (which wasn't necessarily _not_ true). "So I'm supposed to get my grades up and I can't hang out with and stuff."

Arthur's eyebrows rose. For a split second, Alfred feared he'd get called out again. Then Arthur asked, "Oh, that's what's wrong?" And Alfred sighed in relief, glad that Arthur bought it. "You could've told me. I could tutor you if you need help."

"Really? Sweet—" Alfred almost agreed before he remembered he was lying his ass off. "I mean, um, you don't really have to if you don't—"

"No, really, it's fine," Arthur interrupted, a faint smile on his face, possibly looking the happiest Alfred had ever seen him. "Today is Friday, right? We could get together tomorrow and work no your homework or something."

Alfred grimaced slightly. _Well, that didn't work _quite_ how I wanted it…_ "U-Um, I mean…okay I guess," he replied after a second, unable to think of anything else.

"Great," Arthur said brightly. "I mean, really, what a stupid reason for getting in trouble."

"Heheh, yeah," he mumbled, rubbing his arm, wondering how bad his next conversation with Kiku was going to be. "Come on, let's go back to class."

"Alright, sure." They both turned toward the classroom and started forward, Arthur muttering, "I wonder how much trouble we're going to be in…"

"Yeah…" Alfred suddenly recalling something Arthur had said earlier. "…Wait, Artie, _are_ you gay?" He asked.

Arthur froze midstep, then walked quickly, shoving past Alfred, his face suddenly beat-red. "What? No, of course not, why the hell would I be gay, I-I'm not gay," Arthur blurted quickly. "Come on, tosser, let's just get back to class."

Alfred frowned, confused by that reaction. "Um…okay?" He replied warily, following after Arthur. As they slipped back into the class, Alfred slipped his hands into his pockets, his hand brushing up against his phone. Well, he knew he was going to be in for a long day tomorrow…

* * *

_Well at least I was able to finish another chapter. I keep not being able to get on the computer, what with school and work and rumble tiki death matches._

_Running on no sleep, though, so if I missed any editing stuff I was supposed to do let me know. It's always helpful! (Though let me know where you found any grammatical errors so I can kill it with fire)_

_I think the next chapter will be fun._


	10. Study Session

"Alfred-kun, please, this is a bad idea. You shouldn't have that human coming here, you could get found out, I do not want something to happen again…"

Alfred rolled his eyes and scowled toward the phone lying on his couch. He'd put in on speaker phone, something which he seriously had begun to regret, because Kiku had been panicking on the other line for about twenty minutes straight. It was beginning to get annoying. "Kiku, leave me alone, I'm doing stuff," he snapped in response.

"What are you doing?"

"None of your business," Alfred replied, ducking back down and searching under the couch for the comic book he'd dropped earlier.

He could hear Kiku trying to regain his bearings, and quickly added before he could say anything, "I'm not doing anything bad, relax Kiku."

"H-Hai, but Alfred-kun—"

"Whoa, dude, I think there's a spider under here," he said randomly, almost putting his entire head beneath the couch. "Shit, I should kill that before Arthur get's here—"

"Alfred-kun, you can't let this human come here," Kiku protested weakly. "You already almost got yourself discovered—"

"Which is why I'm gonna be extra careful!" Alfred insisted, sitting up to grin at the phone. "Really, you don't gotta worry—ACK SHIT—" Alfred leapt back as the spider scuttled over his foot, then smashed at it with his shadow. The spider easily dodged and scurried beneath a small cabinet.

There was a pause, where Alfred was almost positive that Kiku was having an aneurism. "L-Like I said," Alfred mumbled, "nothing to worry about."

"Alfred-kun, I…really worry about you…"

Alfred looked over at the phone. "Pfft, really?" Then he grinned at it. "Well, that's what makes you a good friend!" He told him. "'Cause, as far as demons go, you're not a total dick! But you gotta relax, I can handle this!"

Kiku didn't say anything back at first, so Alfred told him, "Besides, Artie's not getting here until noon!"

_Knock knock _"Hey, git, are you in there?"

Alfred froze at Arthur's muffled voice from the other side of the door. He looked up at the small clock lying on the coffee table. _12:00 PM._

"…oops."

"A-Alfred-kun, is he there—?"

"W-What no, shut up, gimme a sec Kiku—DON'T COME IN YET!" He called toward the door, "I, uh, I LOST MY KEYS!" He bolted into the next room, grabbing things as he went.

…

"Alfred, you don't need keys to open the door from the inside!" Arthur called, crossing his arms. He heard Alfred running into a further room and rolled his eyes. "Alfred!" He groaned, leaning forward against the door.

And the door opened, causing Arthur to tumble face first into the apartment.

"ACK JESUS BLOODY—" he hit the floor face first with a crash and a yelp, and laid there for a moment, dazed. Then he sat up, cursing furiously. "Alfred, your damn lock is broken!" He called, clambering back onto his feet and looking around.

The place was a mess, to say the least. There was dirt all over the floor near the entrance, and an umbrella stand lying on its side. There were McDonalds wrappers and paper plates covering the tables and an overflowing trashcan, and Alfred's backpack along with several dozen comic books lying haphazardly on the floor next to the couch.

"Oh god…" Arthur mumbled, looking around in disgust, stepping cautiously into the wreckage. He eyed the comic books lying on the floor. _Huh, I suppose he ended up reading those superhero books I told him about,_ he thought blankly, then noticed something else on the couch nearby.

"Alfred, you left your phone!" He called, picking it up and looking at it. Then he noticed that there was currently a call being placed. He stiffened. "O-Oh bullocks…um…" he glanced around again, then held the phone to his ear. "Err, hello?"

"…h-hello…" a nervous voice responded after a moment.

"Um, sorry, but Alfred isn't here this second," Arthur told him, sitting down gingerly on the couch. "This is his friend, Arthur."

"H-Hai I know that…" The other person stammered.

Arthur frowned. "You do?"

"I-I mean, Alfred-kun talks about you often so I know who you are," he amended quickly.

"He…talks about me?" Arthur asked, his stomach oddly swooping. He wasn't quite sure what he was feeling all of a sudden. Embarrassment? Nervousness? Elation? Why did hearing that the brat talked about him make him feel so… "W-What exactly did he say about me?"

"Um…nothing much…" the guy mumbled. "He just, uh…he enjoys your company…"

Arthur frowned at the response. What was that supposed to mean? "Right okay. Well, um, anyway Alfred will probably be back in a second if you wanted to just call him again—"

Alfred suddenly burst back into the room, calling, "Shit Kiku sorry I left you on the couch—" He froze, seeing Arthur with the phone against his ear. His eyes widened. Then he blurted, "Don't come in I'm naked."

Arthur snickered slightly, staring at him. "I'm already in and you're dressed," he responded, then remembered that he'd stolen Alfred's phone. He quickly handed it over, mumbling, "And, um, you left this here…"

Alfred took the phone and told Kiku, "I'll call ya' back later," before hanging up. He stowed it away in pocket and grinned sheepishly up at Arthur as he sat down next to him on the couch. "Eheheh, sorry 'bout that."

Arthur just raised an eyebrow. "Did you forget I was coming?"

"No way," he told him. "I just didn't realize it was already noon!"

Arthur rolled his eyes and looked around. "And you still left your home looking like this?" He asked incredulously, eyes falling on the overflowing trash can. "Do your parents even care how you leave the place?"

Alfred's face fell slightly. "Oh uh… my parents don't stay here with me."

Pausing, Arthur looked back at him. "…They don't?"

"Um, nope, I got this place to myself!" He shrugged, blue eyes flicking away toward the floor. "It's 'cause they're working a lot and we, um…still need to sell the house in the suburbs and stuff." He grinned weakly at him. "So I got this whole place to myself! Pretty cool huh?"

Arthur stared at him. "But…but wait, how old are you, fourteen? And you're here by yourself? Is that legal? Is that why your house is a pigsty?"

"Well, I mean, I didn't have anyone really takin' care of me back home either," Alfred said brightly, as if completely unaffected by the information Arthur was getting, "so it's not even that big of a difference! Why, do your parents make you clean your stuff up?"

"Well…well no," Arthur said, his turn to glance away. "I, um, well I live by myself at the moment as well…but really Alfred that is no reason to not clean up after yourself!" He stood up, and began tentatively picking up the greasy wrappers, grimacing as he started shoving them into the trashcan.

"Um, dude…?"

Arthur scowled at him. "Alfred, have you ever even removed this trash?"

"…err…maaaaybe…?" Alfred said quietly, grinning sheepishly, which faded into a grimace as Arthur continued to glare at him. "Okay, okay, jeez man I'm coming…" He got up and trudged over, grabbing the trash bag and half dragging it out the door.

(A While Later)

They somehow ended up spending the first thirty minutes of Arthur's visit cleaning Alfred's house. Well, Arthur did most of the cleaning, Alfred just followed after him, chatting aimlessly. Wasn't Arthur's idea of the ideal weekend, but it actually wasn't nearly as bad as he would later make it out to be. In fact, just being able to talk to his friend after almost three days made the time fly by.

"Whoa, so that's what color the floor is," Alfred laughed after they'd finally picked up the last discarded item from the floor, kicking at the floorboards with a lopsided grin.

Arthur collapsed onto the couch with a soft groan. "Just letting you know, I'm not helping you next time," he muttered, rubbing at his now-sore back.

"Whaaat? You'd let me drown in all those wrappers? Man, I knew you were a terrible person, but I didn't realize you were _that_ bad!" He laughed at him and plopped down onto the couch right on the edge of the cushion Arthur had been sitting on. With a jolt, the cushion flipped up, and then Arthur yelped, falling sideways into Alfred's lap.

There was a long, startled silence where neither of them so much as moved a muscle. Alfred slowly looked down, as Arthur slowly looked up. Their faces were only inches apart. Arthur felt his face turning a deep shade of scarlet as he slowly sat up, scooting back against the other end of the couch, his mortified eyes about the same size as dinner plates. And by extension, about the same size as Alfred's.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. And then suddenly, Alfred doubled over, laughing uncontrollably. Arthur felt as though his face must've reddened even more, if that was possible. "W-What the bloody hell is so funny?" He snapped, on the edge of hysteria.

Alfred just gasped out, "Oh my—oh my god you should—see the look on your _face_!"

He could almost feel a vein popping in his forehead. And he grabbed a pillow and hurled it as hard as he could at Alfred's head. "YOU STUPID WANKER!" He bellowed, hitting him again as he continued to laugh, tears starting to stream down his face.

"Jesus Arthur you look so ridiculous oh my freaking god," he sat up, swatting weakly back at him and falling forward still laughing as if that were the funniest thing to ever happen to him. "And you like freaked the fuck out holy shit your _face pffffhahahahaha_!"

"YOU OBNOXIOUS ARSE I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" Arthur knocked Alfred's glasses clean off and he yelped and fell off the couch with a thump, still gasping to refill his lungs. Arthur's glower eventually silenced him, and he climbed back onto the couch, wiping his face and grabbing his glasses off the floor, forcing himself not to giggle.

"Dude," he said after a moment, "calm down. Chill. It's totally not that big a deal."

Arthur's heart had finally begun to slow down, and he lowered the pillow into his lap, still glaring coldly at him. Why the hell was his heart pounding so hard anyway? He took a deep, calming breath, and muttered, "Right, of course, why the hell would it be a big deal?"

"Guessin' because you just tried to break my nose."

"Shut up."

"So anyway," Alfred interjected quickly before Arthur could go off on him again, "we gonna do my homework or not?"

Arthur paused, only just remembering why he'd come there in the first place. It was weird, but just talking to Alfred made him forget what he was doing. He coughed slightly, suddenly much more flustered than he'd been moments ago. "E-Err right what's your first thing…"

Alfred fished into his backpack and pulled out a book. "First, what's Romeo and Juliet about? I got a test Monday."

"…you read it, right?"

"…maaaaaaybe…?" Alfred smiled weakly.

Arthur groaned, preparing himself for a long day. (And finding, oddly enough, that he didn't actually mind all that much…)

…

"Wait, wait, so…so they die at the end?"

"Alfred, the very first monologue _explicitly states_ that they are going to die."

"B-But dude," Alfred sent a distressed glance toward the book Arthur was flipping through, "they can't just die! I mean, there's gotta be a happy ending, right? Do they, like, ghost make-out or something?"

Arthur paused in his skimming to send Alfred the most disturbed look he'd ever given him. "Um, no," he responded slowly, "I don't believe they ever, at _any point,_ do anything that could even remotely constitute as, um…'ghost making-out'…"

"Man, that's bull. This Shakespeare guy was a complete dick—"

_THWACK_

"_Ow the fu—?_"

"Shakespeare was a genius!" Arthur shot back hotly.

"Ow, you don't have to hit me!" Alfred swiped his book back angrily. "Why would anyone wanna read this stuff? I can't understand a word these guys say, and he keeps killing off all the characters and I mean who the hell says 'wherefore' what does that even mean?"

With a roll of his eyes and another smack upside the head, Arthur muttered, "First off, wherefore means 'why'. Second—"

"It means '_why'_? Who the hell even thought of that—?"

"_Second_," Arthur interrupted, "it's a timeless story! Two people on opposing sides of a feud, two people who weren't supposed to fall in love, and—"

"Dude, they knew each other a day! Two days tops!"

Arthur, by this point, was grinding his teeth together. "You are _completely _missing the point," he snapped. "It's not about that, and it's not about if you understand every word they say. This is a wonderful piece of literature, I mean, almost the entire play is in iambic pentameter for one thing, and these are intricate characters as well as all sorts of…"

Alfred stared blankly at Arthur as he began blocking out his words. He really didn't get this stupid book at all, but Arthur seemed to like it a lot. Actually, it was kind of weird seeing him so animated about something. His emerald eyes seemed to light up as he talked, and a small smile had slipped onto his face, and his face still had a faint blush from earlier, and his golden-blond hair was still sticking up the way it always did.

_Two people who weren't supposed to fall in love…_

Alfred blinked, startled by that thought. _Haha, where'd that come from?_ he wondered vaguely, quickly shifting his gaze from his friend's face to the book. Kind of a weird thought to be having, especially while watching Arthur nerd out about Shakespeare. Besides, that totally didn't apply to them in the first place. Sure, demons didn't usually like humans, and demons definitely didn't 'love' anything, but relationships weren't exactly unheard of.

_Wait, relationships?_ He thought suddenly, sitting up._ What do relationships have anything to do with me and Artie?_ He turned away, feeling his face warming.

"Alfred! Are you even listening?" Arthur snapped at him suddenly.

He jumped slightly. "Huh? Um, yeah, 'course," he responded without turning back around, chuckling nervously. "Totally listening."

Arthur narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Really now? And what was the last thing I just said?"

"You asked me if I was listening," Alfred replied, turning enough to give him a cheeky grin.

Arthur rolled his eyes after a moment. "Oh yes, because _that_ will obviously be the first question on your test."

"Haha, hell yeah, I am so gonna ace this thing." He started stowing his book back into his backpack, and Arthur grabbed at it.

"The hell do you think you're doing?" He snapped.

"I dunno, I don't wanna read this thing. Let's do math or something."

"No, we weren't finished," Arthur insisted. "Besides, why the hell would you want to work on math rather than English?"

Alfred looked up at him, thinking that over. Then a grin spread across his face. "You know what, you're right!"

Arthur blinked. Then he crossed his arms. "Well, obviously I'm right, I don't see why you were arguing in the first place—"

"Let's take a break!"

Arthur paused, then glared at him. "That is not what I meant," he muttered sourly.

"So? Come on, dude, we've been at this forever can't we just—

"Fifteen minutes hardly constitutes as 'forever'," Arthur interrupted.

"But Artie," he insisted, "I wanna get out of here! It's so boring! Just," he hopped to his feet, "just quiz me outside! We could go to McDonalds for some lunch and stuff!" When Arthur continued to scowl at him, he said, "Come on, it'll be fuuuun~!"

"I thought I was here to keep you from failing—_stop poking me!_" He snapped as Alfred started prodding his arm, whining, "_Duuuuuuuuuude…" _He swatted at him angrily until he stopped. "Why the hell do you even want to go so badly?"

"Come on, you don't wanna hang out?" He asked.

Arthur blinked, then glowered at him. Alfred took that chance to make the largest puppy eyes he could muster. He saw Arthur's eye twitch slightly, then, with a deep sigh, his friend muttered, "Alright, fine, whatever. Let's go…eat our feeling I guess."

"Haha yeah, let's…hey wait!"

Arthur just stood up, smirking at Alfred's glare. "Well? Come on, let's go."

* * *

_See, now I'm doing better. Managed to finish studying early, and wrote this! Hooray~!_

_This was fun to write. Can't wait to do the next chapter, when they start eating their feelings._

_Gonna just post this real quick..._


	11. An Interrupted Excursion

The moment they stepped outside the building, Alfred moaned, "Gah, I keep forgetting it's cold outside," and sprinted back into the building. "Sorry dude I'll be back one sec," he called over his shoulder, disappearing up a set of stairs.

Arthur rolled his eyes, stepping back inside. It wasn't even that cold. Alfred was such a prick. He sighed, fixing his open jacket, shifting on his feet, glancing around restlessly.

Going to McDonalds with Alfred. How stupid. Why was Arthur feeling excited? Aside from the fact that he'd never set foot in one of those disgusting buildings, the sky was grey and drizzling and he could see the thin, skeletal trees rattling in the wind just outside. Not exactly ideal weather for their…hanging out.

Still, maybe it wouldn't be that bad, being able to spend time with Alfred. He'd never really hung out with anybody in the school, let alone outside of it. Hell, he'd never hung out with _anyone_ before, unless you counted Francis back in heaven (which usually ended with a black eye and quite a lot of pulled feathers). It was definitely going to be a unique experience.

Suddenly, Alfred was running back past him, pulling his second sleeve of his coat on and grabbing Arthur by the wrist. "Found it! Come on let's go!" And Arthur was yanked by the wrist out into the chilly air.

He yelped, stumbling as Alfred pulled him along, managing to wrestle his arm out of his vice-like grip only after elbowing him in the ribs three times. "Ow, git, you don't have to grab so hard," he snapped. "You don't even have to grab, I can walk perfectly fine by myself."

Alfred chuckled. "Oops, sorry dude."

"And stop referring to me as dude."

"Sorry Iggy."

"_How the hell do you even get 'Iggy' from Arthur they're not even similar names!_" Arthur snapped.

Alfred started laughing again as Arthur tried to hit him, running ahead down the street. "Last one there's paying!" He called, turning to run backward for a moment and running straight into a tree.

Arthur snickered slightly, jogging up next to his doubled-over friend. "Oh no, how will I ever catch up to you…?"

Alfred glared up at him, rubbing his back. "Shut up. Ow, that tree was pointy," he mumbled.

Arthur rolled his eyes. Then he said, "Well serves you right. Besides, you're faster than me. Shouldn't _I_ get the head start?"

Alfred blinked, looking confused for a split second, before Arthur suddenly took off down the street. Alfred stood there for a moment, and then scrambled after him. "H-Hey dude, not fair!" He protested, even though he was able to catch up to him fairly quickly.

They ran down the next two blocks, almost running down three dog-walkers and an old lady before they dashed into a McDonalds on the corner, Alfred managing to force himself through the door first. "And the winner is _Alfred F. Jooooneeees_!" He shouted, then took a deep bow, making a sound like there was a crowd cheering him on. "Thank you, thank you!"

"S-Shut up you—you idiot!" Arthur managed to gasp, leaning against the door-frame and gasping for air as he clutched his chest. "Y-You shoved me out of the way!"

"Hahaha, don't be jealous Arthur," Alfred told him, reaching over and ruffling his hair with a grin, which got him a smack in response. "So, since I totally beat you," he continued, "I'm thinking you're gonna have to pay for my lunch!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, his breath finally beginning to return. "I don't have any money."

Alfred's grin disappeared. "You don't?" He asked. "Why not?"

"Why the hell would I have thought to bring my wallet?" Arthur shot back, finding himself able to straighten up at last. "I thought I was just helping you study, not sprinting half a mile and buying some heart failure on a bun."

Alfred sighed melodramatically. "Jeez, that's rude," he complained. When it looked like Arthur would snap at him again, he held up his hand. "Alright, alright, _I'll_ pay for the food," he told him. "You can thank me later."

"Thank you for what, my imminent obesity?"

Alfred scowled. "Dude, I'm just trying to be nice."

"I'm not even hungry," Arthur replied, crossing his arms. "I was planning on just waiting to eat until I went home anyway."

"What? Dude, you trying to starve yourself?" Alfred protested. "That's not healthy!"

"Oh right, because _you_ know everything about healthy eating habits," Arthur shot back, prodding Alfred's stomach.

Alfred blinked down at his stomach for a moment, before sending Arthur a dark look. "You callin' me fat?"

Arthur fake gasped. "Oh wow, you're beginning to understand sarcasm! Maybe you'll finally be able to pass that Shakespeare test!"

Alfred glared at him a second longer, just muttering, "It's all muscle, just so ya' know." He started rummaging through his pockets, finding several wadded up dollar bills. "Well, just saying, if you did want any food, I would be willing to pay for it," he finished dejectedly, walking slowly over to the back of the line.

Arthur's self satisfied smirk faded as he watched Alfred waiting in line, hurt written all over his face. He sighed slightly to himself, then sidled up next to his friend. "Alright, just get me something from the dollar menu," he conceded.

Alfred looked up at him. And then Arthur mumbled, "And, um…t-thanks…"

Alfred perked up slightly. "Well, sure, no problem!" He replied. "What're amazingly cool superheroes for?"

"What did I say about this stuff going to your head?" Arthur growled back.

Alfred began to laugh at him. "Sorry, sorry, I'm just a _regular_ superhero. Hey, you want me to get you one of those unicorn toys from the kid's meals—?"

"E-Excuse me?" Arthur stammered. "Why the hell would I want a…I mean…w-why would I want a unicorn—"

"Well I thought I saw a bunch of unicorn stickers on your binders."

"I-I swear Gilbert and Antonio put those…" Arthur stammered quickly, feeling his face heating in embarrassment. He'd learned one of his first days on Earth that unicorns and fairies are not something guys were supposed to like. (And by learned, he meant 'gotten punched in the face'.)

Alfred just grinned at him. "If you say so," he replied teasingly.

Arthur groaned and stormed back to where he'd been standing by the door earlier, grumbling under his breath, his face still red. He leaned his back against the wall, when a voice cut through his dark mutterings. "Arthur Kirkland!"

Arthur felt his blood freeze. That voice…

Suddenly, an arm was around his shoulder, and a familiar young man with a beard and a French accent was leaning in much too close to him, as usual. "I leave you alone for all of three weeks, and suddenly you are sexually active?" He asked accusingly, a pout formed across his face. "That is no fair mon ami!"

"F-Francis?" Arthur stammered, staring up at him. "What the bloody hell are you—wait, _what the fuck did you just say to me you git?_"

Francis suddenly chuckled to himself. "Oui, you're right, whatever was I thinking? You, sexually active," he scoffed, shaking his head. "Oui, c'est ça…"

Arthur tried to push the man off of him. "Get the hell off of me," he snapped. "What are you even doing here you frog? And if you're going to insult me, do it in a language that I can bloody understand!"

Francis rolled his eyes. "You don't seem happy to see me," he joked. "And why do you think I'm here? I'm here to…" he paused, glancing around to see if anyone was nearby. "Well, to see if you've made any progress."

Arthur glowered sullenly at him. It was true, he had made absolutely no progress in finding this demon. Usually there were indicators, such as strange murders or disappearances, or even unexplainable disasters. So far, none of those had happened. It was as if there wasn't a demon anywhere near the city.

Francis had been right in saying this demon was powerful. The creature must've been a master of disguise…

Eventually, he shook his head. "No, I honestly haven't seen a single indication there's even a…" he paused too, glancing around to make sure no one would overhear, "well, one of those near here. And you're absolutely sure there's one?"

"You don't trust me?" Francis asked, pretending to look hurt.

"Why on _Earth_ would I ever trust you?"

Francis just chuckled in response. "To answer your first question, oui, I am absolutely sure he is here somewhere. And you're sure you haven't seen anyone suspicious?"

Arthur huffed, "Yes, I think I would notice if there were…if there was anything suspicious. Now, I was in the middle of something, so if you'd be kind enough to leave—"

"Oh yes, I was going to mention, that is quite the catch you've got there," Francis suddenly interrupted, leaning to the side to look over Arthur's shoulder toward the young blond nearing the front of the line, eyeing his backside with a smirk. "Hon hon hon…"

Arthur felt his face flush darkly. "Stop that, you obnoxious pervert!" He snapped, roughly pushing Francis backward. "A-And whatever you're trying to imply with your 'catch' remark, I can assure you that _nothing_ of the sort—"

"Oh please, Arthur," Francis replied, "it is written all over your face."

"There is nothing 'written on my face'," Arthur retorted. "Besides, even if I-I _was_ interested—which I am not saying I am—I highly doubt that he is…y-you know, gay," he finished weakly.

Francis just snickered slightly. "Oui, and my name is Francine," he muttered under his breath.

"You know something, I really loathe you sometimes," Arthur growled.

"I'm sorry, my English is a little weak; did you just say you 'loved' me?" Francis replied smoothly, smirking at him.

Arthur stiffened. "What? No you bloody moron—!"

"That reminds me," Francis said, leaning in close to Arthur's suddenly shocked face, "you still _'owe' _me from earlier, non? Because I can think of several ways you could pay me back~!"

Arthur leaned back as Francis's hand fell onto his shoulder. "I swear to _god_ Francis—"

"Dude…?"

They both paused what they were doing to look up at the confused boy clutching a tray full of food. "Um, whatcha doin'…?" Alfred asked slowly, looking from Arthur to Francis with uncertainty written across his face.

A second passed before either Arthur or Francis so much as moved a muscle. Then Francis turned abruptly (Arthur fell backward) and held out his hand. "Bonjour! You must be Arthur's new…" He paused, sending Arthur a smirk, "…_friend._"

"I am going to murder you," Arthur spat, climbing back to his feet. "Ugh, I think I landed in something…"

"My name is Francis Bonnefoy," he continued, ignoring Arthur.

"Um, I'm Alfred," he replied, hesitantly shaking Francis's hand, for once his goofy smile oddly absent as he gazed from Francis's face to Arthur's. "Alfred F. Jones."

Francis smiled, then turned toward Arthur. "Perhaps we should continue our conversation in private," he suggested.

"Perhaps you could sod off and never speak to me again, you perverted frog," Arthur growled back.

Francis raised his eyebrow slightly. "…um, well I was referring to our other conversation," he said with an amused smirk.

Arthur blinked, then face-palmed. "Oh, uh, right—"

"Of course, if you _wanted~_"

"Get off of me," Arthur snapped, shoving Francis back as a hand landed once again far too low for Arthur's liking. "And I can handle this by myself, so if you would kindly leave me the hell alone and go back to eating your snails."

Francis's smile turned to a scowl as he crossed his arms. "At least I won't have to get my stomach pumped because I ate that horrid food _you_ make, monsieur Eyebrows."

"Oh go to hell," he mumbled back.

Francis chuckled. "Well, I should be going, I'm sure just standing near Arthur is making me look atrocious." Francis turned, managing to give Arthur one more smirk. "Oh, good luck with your new 'friend'. And if you need any _demonstrations_—"

"JUST LEAVE!"

And with that, Francis had slid out the door, leaving a fuming Arthur and a confused Alfred in his wake.

* * *

_c'est ça ~ As if_

_Have you ever had one of those days where everything is really blurry then you realize you left your glasses at home? No? Just me? Kay._

_I wanted to put a lot more in this chapter, but I keep not being able to write, being super busy with school (and getting The World Ends With You that game is addicting) so I decided to upload it now instead of in like another week. Hope everyone likes it!_


	12. Heart and Soul

Alfred stared blankly at the ceiling of his room, watching the slow trek of that spider he'd tried to kill earlier as it headed toward the cracked-open window. He'd been lying in the same place on the bed for the several hours since Arthur had left, his listless stare tired and unfocused.

The rest of the trip had been uneventful after that Francis guy had left. They'd eaten in relative silence, because Arthur was still fuming from Francis's little visit, and Alfred found himself for once drawing a blank on what to say. He hadn't ended up finishing his burger either, because it had tasted oddly bland. They'd gone home and finished up Alfred's homework, and Arthur had left shortly after, much to Alfred's disappointment.

Was it odd that he hadn't thought Arthur had any friends? Well, no, now that he thought about it, Arthur had told him several times that he didn't want any. So it wasn't all that strange that he'd been surprised. Although Alfred still couldn't really imagine Arthur hanging out with that pretentious tool, sitting next to him during class, smiling at him, laughing with him, his green eyes lighting up the way they would when he was with Alfred…

…was it weird that thinking about it made his chest hurt? What about the hot, bubbling, angry feeling in his stomach that he couldn't quite place, was that weird too? Were these normal feelings for humans to have? He sat up, these questions passing sluggishly through his mind as he sighed to himself. Maybe there was something weird in his burger. Or he was getting sick or something.

On a completely unrelated note, there was something Alfred definitely didn't like about that Francis guy. Aside from his, um, personal space issues with Iggy (lol seriously why didn't Arthur like that nickname?) he seemed sort of like a snooty jerk. Why would Arthur want to hang out with such a creepy guy anyway?

Alfred frowned, finally hopping to his feet to slip into the next room. His homework was still strewn across the table, his copy of Romeo and Juliet lying on top. He smiled slightly at the tattered book. The play was impossible to figure out, but it was starting to grow on him. Maybe Arthur's enthusiasm was starting to rub off on him.

He couldn't help but laugh slightly at the words 'Arthur' and 'enthusiasm' used in the same sentence, in his mind seeing his friend's smile as he rambled on about pentagramic iambeter, or whatever it was. As unusual as it was to see Arthur happy, Alfred could help but find himself grinning back. Arthur was just so…

…so…

…cute? Alfred blinked, trying to decide if that word fit. Arthur, being cute? That…no, that wasn't right, was it? Why would Arthur be cute? That entire thought process made no sense. Because Arthur was a guy. And mean and sarcastic. And Alfred definitely wouldn't find a guy like _that_ cute in any way, especially one with huge eyebrows and a constant scowl and messy gold hair and vivid green eyes that Alfred couldn't help but stare at whenever their eyes met and—

_Ack, brain, stoppit!_

Alfred conked himself on the head angrily, trying to rid himself of these strange thoughts. _What the fuck, dude,_ he told himself. _That is not right…_

Alfred sat there for a minute or two, trying to clear his head, the palm of his hand still pressed against the side of his head in frustration. After accomplishing absolutely nothing, he did the only other thing he could think of to distract himself. Namely, bothering Kiku.

He pressed the redial button (no one else called him and he didn't actually know what his number anyway) and waited for a few seconds. Kiku usually picked up fairly quickly, and today was no exception.

"Alfred-kun, are you feeling okay?" Kiku questioned him as he picked up his phone.

Alfred blinked, startled that Kiku was already wondering what was going on. "What? Me? I'm fine, totally. Why wouldn't I be, man?"

Kiku replied, "You were acting sort of odd, just a second ago."

"U-Um, what, no I haven't. You're totally imagining things. I-I mean, I mean what about you? Are _you_ feeling alright today, since you're imagining things? Maybe you're the one acting weird, huh? Didja ever think of that?"

"…um…no?" He replied weakly.

"Well—Well exactly! Maybe _I'm_ the one acting normal and _you're_ the one acting weird. You think of that? Well I thought not."

There was a long pause as the both of them tried to decipher the long stream of consciousness that had just left Alfred's mouth. Finally, Alfred blurted, "Kiku I think I'm going crazy or something."

"…I'm not sure if 'going' is the right word…"

"I keep thinking about weird stuff and I can't—hey!" He stopped indignantly.

"S-Sorry," Kiku stammered. "U-Um, maybe you are getting sick? Sometimes demons are effected by, um, 'climate' differences between Earth and Hell. Did this start during your date with Arthur-san?"

Alfred froze. "W-W-Whoa, hey, what? Date? D-Dude, it wasn't a—w-we're not a—why the heck would it be a date?" He managed stammer, suddenly feeling his face reddening.

"What?" Kiku sounded startled. "Oh, g-gomen'nasai, I just thought….I just assumed that you…never mind."

Alfred groaned, leaning back against the couch. "I mean, seriously, why would me and Arthur be dating, I don't even like him that way, come on dude…"

"Well, you are pretending to be a human, sometimes things like that will help you blend in," Kiku told him. "You do not necessarily need to…like him…Other demons usually wouldn't…"

Alfred paused, thinking about that statement. It's true, that's how msny demons operated. Well, that's how almost all demons operated. Maybe he could pretend to go out with Arthur. Would that accomplish anything? He closed his eyes, imagining if he and Arthur were together. He'd seem pretty human, he supposed. It's be easier to look for that angel if he didn't need to pretend as hard. And he and Arthur would go on date,s and hold hands and Alfred could press his lips against Arthur's—

"Alfred-kun, are you still there?"

Alfred snapped out of that daydream quickly. "W-What? Yeah, sorry." He coughed nervously, scratching at the back of his head. "H-Hey Kiku?" He asked. "Um…is it possible for demons to fall in love?"

"…what?" He could almost see Kiku's confused frown in his mind. "Uh, no."

"You sure?" Alfred continued. "'Cause I mean I…" He trailed off, trying to figure out what to say. "…well, um…okay, so I've been doing a bit of soul-searching—"

"Alfred-kun, demons do not have souls."

"Shut up," he muttered dryly. "I just mean I've been thinking a lot…and I just…I mean, are you sure, Kiku? Y'know, 'cause…" He trailed off, finding himself unable to finish his sentence.

There was a long pause. Alfred swallowed nervously, pulling the phone away slightly to double-check that Kiku was still there. Finally, Kiku answered, "I do not believe so."

Alfred nodded slowly, unsure why he felt so disappointed about that. "Haha, yeah, you're right, dumb thought," he mumbled, tucking his hand into his pocket. Besides, he would be a pretty shitty demon if he ended up falling for a human. _Come on, Alfred, think about this stuff,_ he told himself, shaking his head.

And somehow, the thought of kissing Arthur popped back into his head.

He flinched, hitting his head again, face flushing. _Damn it, get outta my head, Artie,_" he thought furiously. "I mean, seriously, I definitely wouldn't date him…"

"It wouldn't be horrible if you did, as long as you don't do anything dangerous," Kiku told him quietly, hoping to make him feel better.

Alfred jumped, and only then realized he'd finished his thought out loud. "Never mind it's not that big a deal," he replied quickly. "It's a stupid idea anyway right? I mean…it's dumb…" He laughed nervously. "Y'know, I think I forgot to, um, write my name on my history homework I'll call you back later or something bye." He hung up and tossed the phone onto the table before Kiku even realized what he'd said.

He sighed, thinking hard. _Dating Arthur…_

Alfred flopped sideways onto the sagging couch cushions and shut his eyes, that vague thought still drifting through his head…

…

Arthur sat in silence as he gazed at the cityscape from his perch atop his building, his wings stretched out behind him. It was his favorite spot, because he was completely secluded from the rest of this miserable world he called home. Well, okay, he didn't consider this place home. That word was exclusively reserved for his real home. The one in Heaven.

He folded his arms together, watching his own breath rise in mists from his mouth as he breathed the crisp air, eyes gazing toward the sun sinking on the horizon. That was one perk about Earth; it got a much better view of the sunset than Heaven did.

He shut his eyes, wishing his height could distance him from the noise of the city, sirens and cars and that faint, ever present din from farther into the city. That was something he could live without. There were plenty of things Arthur could live without. The smog and the noise and the people on the streets were mosquitoes, constantly biting him, buzzing in his ears. Honestly, he could only think of one other perk to living in such an irritating place.

He smiled slightly to himself, recalling his second perk's goofy grin…

He shook his head slowly, trying to force his usual scowl back onto his face, but eventually just giving up with an amused sigh. It was amazing how used to Alfred's silly quirks Arthur had become. He would almost call them endearing (if he hadn't known Alfred would never let him live it down if he did).

He hadn't done very much since he'd left Alfred's house. He'd tried to be productive, he really had, but this demon was giving him nothing to go on. No path of destruction to follow, no murders or explosions. _If it's lying in wait for a good time to strike, then it damn well better hurry up,_ Arthur thought bitterly. Really, demons usually weren't this stealthy.

…Except for when they were searching for something…

He frowned slightly as that thought passed through his mind. Of course, this notion had been plaguing his mind for weeks now. He hadn't mentioned it to Francis earlier, though, because he already knew what it was searching for. Because the only thing of interest for miles around was the Angel currently sitting on his rooftop.

Distain creasing his brows, he sighed again. He'd been contemplating how to lure it out of hiding, but his only real plan involved revealing himself as an Angel, which would certainly give the demon the upper hand. He could obviously set a trap, but the risk, coupled with the problem of revealing himself and thus ruining his disguise, made the plan seem fairly irrational.

He let his eyes open again, startled to see that the sun was already beneath the horizon, and the sky was already transitioning to an inky black. He stood up, stretching his arms and his wings as he strode purposefully toward the rusting door leading back into the building. A few years ago he'd found the old key leading up here. He hadn't mentioned it to Francis out of spite (they'd lived in the same building for a short period of time before Francis left, and good god did that prick make it difficult to live near him), but he still snuck up here often.

_I wonder if Alfred would find it cool,_ he wondered idly, slipping through the door as quietly as the rust would allow as he pulled his jacket back over his wings. _Maybe if he comes over I should show it to him. I wonder if he'd be willing to hang out again next week. Maybe we could get something other than burgers, like some scones or something. Or dinner._

"_I was going to mention, that is quite the catch you've got there."_ Francis's voice rang in his ears. He scowled slightly, feeling his face warming even through the numb from outside. Why did that statement bother him so much? It was just Francis, he said idiotic things like that to everyone. Especially when he saw someone attractive, like Alfred.

Not that Alfred was attractive. Because he wasn't.

…_a-alright, he is attractive,_ Arthur admitted to himself, unlocking his front door with a weak smirk. _But he's still an obnoxious prat._

He strode inside, shutting the door and tossing his jacket aside, smirk still on his face as he slipped into his bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Why was he even thinking about this? Alfred was straight, so Arthur had no chance even if he wanted to (which he certainly didn't). Why would he care whether or not Alfred and he were dating? The thought probably hadn't even crossed Alfred's mind.

Arthur sighed, lying back on the mattress. _Stop thinking about him,_ he told himself. _Focus on that demon. Worry about it, not him. Focus on going home._

_But then you won't see him again…_

Arthur froze, lying on the bed for about a minute. He sat up, that thought beginning to sink in. It was true, he wouldn't see Alfred after he went home. Francis hadn't seen his friends since he left just over a year ago. Angels couldn't keep in touch.

He wouldn't see Alfred again…

* * *

_I wanted to post this yesterday but there was a spider on my chair._

_Like, a really big spider._

_Anyway, chapter hooray managed to finish. If only my essays turned out as well as these. *sigh*_

_Hope everyone likes it, even when it gets kind of rambly. And sorry it kinda ends abruptly, I just wanted to finish in case I don't get the chance the rest of my busy weekend._


	13. Some Not-So-Helpful Tips

Alfred F. Jones had sat down in his usual chair, leaning back and crossing his arms, his eyes wide and staring toward the open doorway. He sat there rather stiffly, but whether from nerves or excitement it was impossible to tell from the first glance.

He started rocking back and forth on the back legs of the chair, his mouth forming into a pout that anyone who'd ever talked to him was quite familiar with. _When is Arthur getting here?_ He wondered in the back of his mind.

He wasn't sure why his stomach was twisting into knots. He assumed it was because he only ate a cereal bar before leaving his house. Yeah, that must've been it. It wasn't like he was actually going to ask Arthur out. Really, what a stupid thought. Him and Artie. Together. Makin' out and stuff. Ha. Dumb.

He sighed, shaking his head at such a silly thought, laughing to himself. Or…well maybe it wasn't that silly, but the thought of it did make Alfred's face feel warm. So obviously it was not something he should dwell on too long.

Alfred glanced back up toward the doorway, then perked up, grin spreading across his face as a familiar person strode through the doorway, green eyes focused on the floor. Alfred hopped to his feet, calling out, "Hey Arthur!"

Arthur didn't look up, brows furrowed in thought as he strode toward the table, sitting down in his seat. Alfred cocked his head at him, confused. "Uh, dude?" He tried. Arthur didn't look up. "Hey Artie. Eyebrows. Hey. Anyone there?" He leaned forward and prodded Arthur's cheek.

Arthur yelped, spinning abruptly toward him. He scowled at him, causing Alfred to break out into another smile. "What?" He snapped.

"'Sup?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Alfred, don't poke me," he muttered.

"Well you were ignoring me," Alfred accused. "You ignore me, I get to poke you."

Arthur paused. "Oh. Right. Sorry about that," he mumbled. "I was…distracted." His eyes unfocused again as he stared blankly at the table.

Alfred frowned. It was true that Arthur could be a little spacey sometimes, but this was just annoying. "Yo, Artie." He scowled then prodded Arthur's head. "Dude, stop it." Arthur sent him a glower. "What'cha thinking about anyway?"

"That is none of your business," he replied smoothly, turning back toward the table as the bell finally rang. "I just…I have something on my mind."

"I have a chocolate covered granola bar in my backpack if that's what you need."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the offer but unlike you I'm able to focus on something other than food for more than thirty seconds."

"Hey, I think about other stuff," Alfred protested. "Like superheroes."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I stand corrected," he muttered, turning to look through his backpack. "I don't get why you find those so interesting…"

"Well, you're the one who told me about them," Alfred retorted.

"And dear lord have I regretted that mistake…"

Alfred sighed, shaking his head. "You just totally don't get the point of it," he told him. "It's about having all these badass powers and using them to swoop in and save people!" He grinned, elbowing his friend. "Come on, you gotta want some sort of superpower don't you? Haven't you ever wanted to fly or something?"

At the word 'fly', Arthur paused. Slowly, he looked toward Alfred, an odd look in his eyes. "Yes, I suppose I…I have," he mumbled after a moment, nodding more to himself than to Alfred.

Alfred laughed at him. "Ha! Thought so. I got you pegged, man."

Arthur just sighed at that. "Of course you do, Alfred," he replied with an exasperated shake of the head, leaning back in his seat and shutting his eyes.

Alfred continued grinning at Arthur, looking at him as he sat there, eyes closed, head back. It was funny how he looked the same as when he'd first saw him, eyebrows still knitted together in thought, face contorted into that scowl Alfred had gotten so used to.

What exactly was he thinking so hard about? Alfred frowned. He wouldn't be thinking about that Francis guy, would he…? No, no why would he? That's stupid, those guys were just, um, friends or something. And why should Alfred care if he even was…?

"Hey wanna do stuff next weekend?"

Alfred stiffened, startled by the words that had just blurted out of his mouth. What? That wasn't what he'd wanted to say.

Arthur opened an eye and glanced toward Alfred. "What?" He asked.

"U-Uh, I mean, did you wanna get another burger this weekend?" He stammered, still trying to figure out where this was coming from and, more importantly, why he was still talking. "Or a scone or whatever? Like a d—" He managed to stop himself before he finished, clamping his jaw shut quickly.

Arthur looked closely at him, looking mildly surprised. Then, much to Alfred's surprise, he gave him a small smile. "Um, sure, why not?" He replied with a shrug. "I don't have much else to do, do I?"

"…heheh, I, uh, guess not," Alfred murmured nervously, staring at Arthur's smile.

Arthur nodded, still seeming much more to himself than to Alfred. His smile slowly disappeared again as he went back to thinking. "But, um, I'm sorry I just need to think for a moment…if you don't mind."

"Oh, uh, sure, go ahead," Alfred replied, as Arthur scooted down a few chairs, brows still furrowed in thought. Alfred sighed slightly, rubbing his head. He knew Kiku was right, that demons couldn't fall in love. But it just felt so real, this weird pounding in his heart, the static that went through his head whenever they talked…

"Kesese, and here I thought he would never leave!" Gilbert laughed.

"Yeah, he's just think 'bout someth—" Alfred froze, turning around to find two familiar faces sitting behind him. He frowned. "Why do you guys do that so much?" He asked. "Wouldn't it be easier to just go, 'Hey Alfred, what's up'?"

"Nah, I couldn't for the life of me remember your name." Gilbert leaned forward onto his hands. "So I see you two have made up. Tell me, you two started making out yet?"

Alfred felt his face flush. "W-What? No, why would we make out?" He shook his head, looking back toward Arthur, who had started writing in a small notebook (as Antonio sullenly passed Gilbert twenty bucks under the table). "Why would we make out…?" He repeated.

Antonio shrugged. "I don't know, you seem like you like him, no?"

"I don't like him," Alfred replied calmly. "It's probably just…I probably just got sick."

Antonio and Gilbert both frowned at him. "…well, that is by far the most unawesome excuse I've ever heard…"

"And anyway, he doesn't like me," Alfred replied with a shrug. "Not a big deal."

"I dunno about that," Gilbert said. "Usually he hates everyone! The fact that you two are even on speaking terms says a whole lot."

Alfred didn't say anything back to that. It was true, he guessed. Maybe Arthur did like him (fat chance) but then what? Would they date? Even though Alfred knew it wasn't love…?

Antonio thought for a second, then asked, "Have you tried pick up lines?"

Alfred looked at him. "Have I tried what?"

Gilbert started snickering, but Antonio ignored him. "Well sometimes when I'm at Lovino and Feliciano's house, we talk about all the funny pick up lines that they use when talking to girls." He laughed. "Those two are funny, no?"

Alfred frowned. "A-And those work?"

He shrugged in response. "Well, usually if they flirt back Lovi gets nervous, and Feli hasn't really gotten past…um, what was it?"

"First base," Gilbert replied with a smirk.

"First base…?" Alfred questioned.

Gilbert laughed. "Wow, you are really new to this stuff aren't you? Okay, first base is kissing and stuff, like making out. I mean, not that Feli has ever exactly 'made out' but I'm pretty sure he's kissed people before."

"…oh, has he…" Alfred mumbled slowly as he came to the realization that he had less romantic experience than _Feliciano Vargas_ basically the most pathetic kid in the grade holy crap…

"Let's see, second base is feeling someone up. Third base is…" Gilbert paused. "Wait, what's third base? Toni, is that blow jobs?"

Alfred stiffened. "W-W-Whoa, wait, what?" He stammered.

"No, I think that's fourth base," Antonio replied calmly, thinking hard about it. "Sex is fourth base, yes?"

"You sure? Then what's third base?"

"Maybe it involves tomatoes?"

"What sort of romantic _anything_ could involve tomatoes?"

"I don't know, I think tomatoes are muy romántico."

"You said the same thing about Lovino."

"…Hey!"

"W-Wait, guys," Alfred stammered, hoping desperately to change the subject from sex. "G-Guys, any chance we can just go back to the whole pick-up line thing? Please?"

Gilbert and Antonio glanced up, once again forgetting that there was a third person in their conversation. "Ja sure!" Gilbert replied smoothly. "So, you wanna know some good pick-up lines to use on Eyebrows?"

"W-What, no I just—"

"Alright, I got some good ones. How's this?" Gilbert cleared his throat, turning toward Antonio with a smirk. "Hey. You got any tickets to the show?"

Antonio grinned. "What show?" He asked, laughing slightly.

"_The gun show!" _He flexed his arms, and Antonio started harder.

Alfred stared at them. "And…and that works?" He asked slowly, beginning to seriously worry for their mental health.

"Hell ja it does!" Gilbert told him. "I got a ton of these too. Um…Oh, oh, how's this one! Hey, you kinda remind me of my pinky toe!" He paused for a second, smirking. "'Cause I just know I'm going to _bang_ you on the table!"

"I don't…" Alfred felt his face heat up, imagining how Arthur would react to that one. "I really don't think that would accomplish anything…"

"Yeah you're right, Eyebrows is way too uptight for that…" He frowned for a second. Then he looked up, waving across the room. "Hey Feli!" He called. Alfred looked in the direction he was flailing to see Feliciano look up. "Feli, c'mere a second!"

Feliciano smiled, then stood up, scurrying across the room before the two people next to him, Ludwig and Lovino, even had time to realize he'd gotten up. "Ve~ Hi Gilbert!" He chimed, sitting down at the table. "Did you need another pencil?"

"Nein danke," Gilbert replied. "Roderich left, so I don't have anyone to throw 'em at."

Antonio spoke up. "We were going to ask you about how you pick up girls and stuff!"

Feliciano smiled at him. "Well it's easy! I just act really cute," he replied. "How come you wanna know? I thought you and Lovi were already going out!"

Antonio laughed nervously, glancing up at the boy glaring suspiciously at him from across the room. "Ahaha no, no we're not," he mumbled sheepishly. "Oh, but he was wondering about it, not me!" He motioned to a very awkward-looking Alfred.

Feliciano looked at him. "Oh, ciao! You're Alfred right?" He smiled and leaned over, giving him a small hug. "I'm Feliciano! I never really introduced myself because you're always hanging around that Arthur guy and he threatened to push me out a window once so I figured you were probably scary too. Oh, but it's still nice to meet you!"

"Nice to…um…what?" He asked weakly.

Feliciano laughed. "How come you wanna know about girls?" He asked curiously.

Alfred shrugged, starting to regret ever having started this entire conversation. "I-I don't," He stammered. "I mean, not exactly…girls…"

Feliciano frowned for a second, thinking, then his usually squinted eyes opened wide. "_Ooooh_!" He looked over Alfred's shoulder. "You want to ask Arthur—?"

Alfred elbowed him quickly, glancing over too to make sure Arthur hadn't noticed. He hadn't of course, but just in case, he turned quickly back toward Feliciano. "Dude, be quiet a sec," He hissed. "I don't want him hearing us, kay?"

Feliciano nodded. "Well, you should ask him out, 'cause when people are all lovey-dovey they're less likely to kill me!"

"…uh…"

"Gilbert," Another voice cut in, as suddenly Ludwig slipped into another seat nearby near Feliciano, "what exactly are you doing?"

"Yeah, what do you bastards want with mio fratello?" Lovino chimed in, for once in agreement with Ludwig as he sat down next to him (although he did make extra sure to set the chair leg down on the larger boy's foot, causing him to yelp slightly).

Alfred looked over at them, starting to freak out at how many people were suddenly here. "U-Um, guys, you know I can figure this out myself—"

"Aw come on, uh, whatever-your-name-was, this is the most interesting this to happen in this study hall since Antonio and that one Turkish kid got into a fist fight!" Gilbert grinned. "No way are we not gonna help make it more interesting! Kesesese~!"

Alfred cringed slightly. He sent a glance toward Arthur, swallowing nervously. _Well, no harm in trying…I think…_

* * *

_Wow this next chapter is going to be fun._

_I was gonna do this Friday but then I caught the worst cold I've ever had. Like no joke, I can't talk or breathe it's awful. Anyway, I hope this turned out okay even with my infirmities._


	14. Alfred Has Mastered The Art Of Seduction

Arthur stared down at the slightly-crumpled paper he'd been writing on, looking more closely at the shapes of the words that the words themselves. They were almost meaningless, anyway, what did it truly matter what they said? Just worthless scribbles on paper.

He stared down at his small, cramped handwriting, wondering why he'd been writing in the first place. To organize his thoughts, he guessed, or to just get all these useless thoughts out of his system. There was barely anything there, except a small T-chart and a small drawing in the corner of the page. He looked over the chart, scowling.

'Here' and 'home'.

One list stretched down the whole page, his miniscule handwriting getting smaller and smaller as it neared the bottom margin of the notebook paper. The view, the people, truly being an Angel again, flight, beating up Francis, he could list a million things that he missed about his home, his _real_ home. His home had been perfect. His home had quite literally been Heaven.

The other side had only three words. Alfred F. Jones.

Obviously, going home won. It won hands down. It wasn't even a contest. He'd been trying to get home for years, why would one stupid name change that?

He shook his head angrily, tearing the paper out of his notebook. But before he could crumple it into a ball, his eye fell on the small doodle in the corner of the page. Just a small, goofy grin and a pair of glasses, and a messy hairdo and bright blue eyes…

"Yo dude!"

Arthur almost screamed, crushing the paper in his hand and shoving it into his backpack. "Damn it, Alfred," he snapped angrily, wheeling around to glare at his friend. "Why the bloody hell do you insist on sneaking up on me like that?"

"U-Um…" Alfred sat there for a moment, looking nervous. "Sorry man, I was just, um…" He paused, thinking. "No I was just…um, you got a map?"

Arthur stared at him. "…a map?" He questioned slowly.

"Y'know, 'cause I keep…I mean I…your eyes…are…um…" Alfred mumbled, squirming under Arthur's confused scrutiny, trying to remember what he was supposed to say. "…shit wait, that's not right."

Arthur continued to stare, unsure of what Alfred was talking about. "What on earth do you need a map for?" He asked. "Do you need a GPS, my phone might have something you could use…"

"N-No, I just, um…" Alfred grimaced, looking over his shoulder. Gilbert and Antonio were mouthing something at him. He perked up slightly. "Oh, oh, hey Artie, are you a veterinarian?" He asked, wheeling back around.

"What the—when the hell did all of those morons get there?" Arthur asked, looking over Alfred's shoulder, becoming more and more perplexed by the second.

"'Cause I got a pretty sick python right here," Alfred continued, laughing.

"What? No, seriously, Alfred, what the hell is going on, is there something happening over there?" Arthur leaned forward, completely ignoring Alfred, and called, "Hey Beilschmidt, what exactly are all of you doing?"

"We weren't doing anything," Gilbert replied with that insolent smirk that always seemed plastered to his face. "What were you doing over there? Writing poetry?"

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Arthur snapped back, shoving the paper deeper into his bag and praying that his face wasn't as red as he thought it was.

"Hmm, well I seem to be on the right track…kesese…"

"I'm not writing poetry!" Arthur protested. "I was…doing homework!"

Antonio snickered slightly. Feliciano chimed in, "Ve~ I think poetry is funny!" He squeaked slightly when Arthur glared at him, and ducked behind his brother, who decided that Ludwig would make a fairly decent human-meat-shield and ducked behind him.

Alfred was glaring at Arthur, even if he didn't notice him. "Yo. Artie. Hey, dude! Arthur!" He sighed, trying to think of another line. He thought of a good one and grinned. "Hey Arthur, did it hurt?"

Arthur shut his eyes, groaning slightly. What the hell was Alfred doing? Pick-up lines? What the hell sort of convoluted joke was he trying to pull? "Did what hurt?" He muttered, turning to scowl at the boy sitting next to him.

"Falling from heaven!"

Arthur felt his stomach lurch, freezing in place. Alfred sat there, grinning at him, as if he'd just spouted something clever. Arthur stared back at him for a minute, startled, and Alfred's grin eventually faded. "Um, Artie?" He asked worriedly, poking his arm.

Arthur shook his head. "E-Erm, sorry, I, uh…" He shook his head. "Alfred, cut it out, I'm not in the mood for jokes."

Alfred paused. "Uh, w-what, you don't like my pick-up lines?" He asked, giving a weak laugh.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "No, I don't," he replied with a sigh, "and I highly doubt any women you would try to pick up would be all too charmed either."

Alfred sat there. "Um, what do you mean by 'pick up women'?"

Arthur glared at him. "Well, you certainly don't use those sorts of lines on people you _know_."

"You…you don't?" He asked, beginning to look vaguely mortified, shrinking in his seat.

"Of course you don't. Who on earth told you otherwise?"

Alfred paused, glaring back at the group of people behind him. Gilbert and Antonio waved, the Vargas brothers ducked, and Ludwig turned toward his brother and whispered furiously, "W-Wait, you're not, why the hell did you tell me that?"

Arthur almost laughed at the look on Alfred's face. "Who on earth were you planning on picking up with those awful pick-up lines anyway?"

Alfred stiffened. "What? Dude, who said I was trying to ask anyone out why would I do that I am a lone shark I don't need a boy—girlfriend, I said girlfriend, man I think I ate something weird this morning." He turned away, cursing under his breath.

Arthur (who couldn't understand a word of that because Alfred was talking much too fast) raised an eyebrow skeptically. "So, who is the 'lucky' lady you're planning on asking out?" He asked again smugly. He thought for a second. "Really, do you even know any girls?"

"I-I know a couple," he stammered back defensively, crossing his arms.

"Oh really? Name one."

Alfred paused, thinking. Then he said, "Well there's a girl named Natalya who sits next to me in Algebra!"

Arthur blinked at him. Then he lost it, suddenly laughing hard enough to need to bury his face in his hands. Alfred jumped slightly, surprised. "W-Whoa, Artie, you okay—?"

"That's Ivan's insane sister, isn't it? And what, you're planning on asking _her_ out?" He laughed, grabbing weakly at his sides. "Am I invited to your funeral? Should I prepare a eulogy? Ahem, 'Here lies Alfred F. Jones, gone too early with a pipe shoved up his arse!'" He started laughing harder, for some reason finding himself unable to stop.

"Dude, it's not even funny. Arthur, stop. Dude. Yo, seriously, cut it out." Alfred sighed, rolling his eyes. "You know what, never mind." He turned away and scooted two chairs over toward the others, all of whom had begun whispering (two were laughing, but you can guess who those two were).

Arthur managed to compose himself fairly quickly once Alfred had moved away from him. He took a deep breath, looking over toward the group that had invaded his table. They were all whispering to each other, glancing up at him momentarily (although Lovino refused to take part in any way shape or form and just sort of flipped him off from a safe distance).

Arthur rolled his eyes, still chuckling to himself. He still found the thought of Alfred asking _Natalya _out extremely amusing. And somehow, he felt oddly relieved. He wasn't sure why. Really, he wasn't. Why would he be happy if his best friend was going to ask out some girl who was certain to say no? He should be unhappy about that.

He sighed, shaking his head. _Really, now, stop feeling so smug about it,_ he told himself, turning back in his seat. _You should be happy for the idiot. _He sent another glance toward the kid, still whispering with the others, his face set with this new, oddly-determined scowl.

It wouldn't matter who the moron dated, Arthur would never see him again. Arthur would find the demon, and then he'd finally go home. Alfred would continue with his life. He'd forget about Arthur. He'd probably grow up and have a family and live a normal sort of existence. Arthur was sure he would make something of his life, become someone famous and respected and loved. The fact that Alfred had met him fleetingly in his youth would mean absolutely nothing to him. To both of them.

To both of them… Now why didn't that statement feel right? He sighed, letting his exhausted eyes fall shut.

…

"Dude, guys, this isn't working at all!"

"Maybe you're doing it wrong?"

"Shut it, Tonio, he's doing it fine, he just needs to be a little more awesome."

"Ve~ try giving him puppy eyes!"

"Try not being a dumbass."

Alfred groaned at their useless comments, scowling toward all of them (especially Lovino, who seemed content glowering back at everyone). "Guys, I really don't think you're helping at all," he told them. "Could you go away for a bit?"

"Nein, no way, now that the bet's over, you losers are way more interesting!" Before that statement could completely sink in, Gilbert had grabbed Alfred's chair and pulled it around so it was facing Arthur. "Okay, so those pick-up lines didn't work. We gotta try something else, ja?"

"Make up poetry!" Antonio suggested, laughing. "He's always writing that stuff in his little unicorn binder of his, sí?"

Alfred scowled over at them as they started to snicker. "First off, I don't really do poems," he told them. "Second, drop the unicorn jokes." He looked toward Arthur. "Besides, that sounds lame. Who wants to hear people pulling rhymes out their asses?"

Antonio shrugged. "Francis told me women liked that romantic poetry stuff," he commented offhandedly.

"…Francis?" Alfred looked over at him, frowning. "That one creepy weirdo with the beard?"

Both of their smiles disappeared. "…you know him?" Antonio asked slowly, looking confused.

Alfred shrugged. "Uh yeah, he was being all creepy toward Artie the other day. Why?"

"Wait, wait," Gilbert shook his head, "you mean, he was here?" He looked angry, much to Alfred's surprise. "Like, here in the city?"

Alfred looked from one to the other. "What do you mean?"

Antonio glanced at Gilbert. "Um, well Francis moved back to France a couple of years ago and hasn't really answered any of our calls or anything…or talked to us at all…we were wondering if something had happened to—"

"That arschloch didn't even think to say _hi_ to us?" Gilbert said indignantly, looking angrier by the second. "What the hell!" He scowled, his glare focusing on Antonio and Alfred and eventually settling the table. "You know what, France can keep that asshole! I don't give a shit!"

"Haha, hey you kind of make it sound like France is a person!"

"What? Shut up Antonio, countries can't be people, that's dumb."

Alfred narrowed his eyes and glanced toward Arthur. So some guy came all the way from France to flirt with Arthur? What the hell was that about? "Um, hey, did Arthur and Francis ever…" He paused, scratching the back of his neck. "Were they dating or something?"

Gilbert had gone quiet, brooding in his chair, so Antonio spoke up. "Um, I don't think so. I mean, mi amigo Francis dated lots of people! But he flirted a lot with Arthur as a joke too." He laughed to himself. "But I don't think Arthur liked him back all that much."

"Good…" Alfred murmured, more to himself than anyone, looking back over at Arthur. Wondering in the back of him mind if Arthur had liked that guy back. Feeling his stomach churning once again. Why did he care? Ugh, damn human stomach thing…

Arthur had his eyes closed again. He seemed to do that a lot, when he was thinking. Alfred looked closely at him. Then he sighed softly. "You're confident on this poetry crap?" He questioned one more time.

"Sí, of course!" Antonio answered brightly. The group behind him all nodded encouragingly. (Well it depends on your definition of 'encouragingly' to be honest, so just pretend for a moment that Lovino wasn't ignoring them and Ludwig didn't have his face buried in a How To book on relationships.)

With that, Alfred swallowed and slipped back over toward his friend. Getting a Boyfriend, Take 2.

"Yo Artie."

Arthur jumped again, sending Alfred an annoyed glare. "Alfred, what did we just talk about?" He snapped. "You're going to give me a heart attack."

"Um…sorry, I just wanted to ask about, um…" Alfred shut his eyes. "You like…poetry?" He asked.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" He narrowed his eyes, looking over toward Antonio. "Just what the hell have those morons been telling you? Whatever it is I can assure you—"

"No no I just…no, we're not making fun of…dude stop it!" Alfred elbowed him until he stopped glaring at the Spaniard. "I meant like…l-like, um, do girls like poetry and stuff?"

Arthur blinked. Then he smirked slightly. "You're still thinking about that?" He asked, sniggering.

"Yeah yeah, I get it, it's funny, do girls like poetry?"

Rolling his eyes, Arthur muttered, "Why would I know what girls like? Do I look like a girl? And just letting you know, if you say yes I will murder you in your sleep." He turned toward him, rubbing tiredly at his eye. "Alright, what exactly do you have?"

"Huh?"

Arthur scowled. "Poetry, moron. You just said something about poetry. You have something mind mind, right?"

"O-Oh, right! Um…" Alfred cleared his throat, racking his brain. "Roses are red…violets are blue…flowers are cool, and so are you."

Arthur stared blankly at him. "…you're…joking, right…?" he mumbled.

Alfred cringed slightly, feeling his face warming. "I-I, um…" He looked toward the floor. "Never mind, poetry sucks," he mumbled quickly.

Arthur started laughing slightly. "Oh come off it, it wasn't…" He patted Alfred's arm, still chuckling. "Don't get me wrong, it wasn't good, but I'm sure there are plenty of girls that would think it was cute."

"…really?" Alfred asked, looking up hopefully.

"Of course," he responded. "Although I highly doubt they would appreciate the word 'cool'. Doesn't quite have that sort of romantic feel to it now does it? Isn't there some other description you could think of?"

"Like…badass?"

Arthur face-palmed. "Alfred, have you ever talked to a girl?" He asked dryly.

"Yeah, Natalya threatened to kill me when I asked her for a pencil."

"Oh yes, how very feminine of her." Arthur sighed. "I meant something akin to pretty, or kind, or just something along those lines. Poetry is supposed to mean something. Here, try this, close your eyes for a moment. Picture her in your head."

Alfred did as he was told (although all things considered, it made very little difference).

"Alright, good," Arthur continued, "now just try to think of a word to describe her. Something you like about her. Something meaningful."

The first word that popped into his head was _male._ He suddenly snorted, turning away quickly to hide his laughter from Arthur. Arthur glared at him. "What is so funny?"

Alfred turned back toward him, trying to force his laugher back, trying to think of something he could say. He looked up at the boy he'd been picturing in his head a moment ago, his eyes meeting those emeralds looking back at him. Another word came to his mind.

"Perfect," he replied.

There was a pause. Arthur blinked, staring back in confusion. After a moment, he glanced away uncomfortably, face reddening slightly. "Ah, right," he mumbled softly. "I'm sure…I'm sure she'd like that," he finished, eyes focusing on the far wall.

Alfred nodded slowly. "Yeah, you'd think," he agreed quietly. His heartbeat had gotten faster and louder in the past few seconds. With a deep breath, he leaned forward slightly, wondering if Arthur could hear it too. "H-Hey Arthur—"

_RIIIIIIIIIIING_

Arthur almost jumped a foot in the air, his arm hitting Alfred squarely in the jaw. "A-Ack! O-Oh, sorry Alfred," he stammered, quickly climbing to his feet. "I-I should get going I need to get to calculus, um, see you at gym."

"W-Wait Artie do you wanna be my boyfr—"

And Arthur was out the door.

There was a long silence as Alfred sat there, mouth still open. Then Antonio spoke up. "So was that a no?" Alfred just groaned.

* * *

_Guess who's back? That's right. This weirdo. Right here. Back from the abyss. Although I am no longer Gandalf the Grey. I am...I am just really tired._

_So tired I almost accidentally uploaded my Spanish paper. Although I'm sure all of you are interested about the culture of Cuba. But this is probably more interesting to read, especially if you don't read fluent Spanish._

_I really should stop writing these things at the bottom._


	15. Wingin' It

Alfred strode quickly down the hallway, sliding past the crowds of people shoving past him from all directions, mouth set into a determined scowl (or more of a pout, he was never very good at scowling). His heart seemed to pound erratically in his throat as he neared the gym where his next class was.

A thousand thoughts raced through his head, trying to piece together some sort of plan. He'd been slowly formulating some vague ideas since he'd left the study hall, even talking it over with his table in algebra (Natalia had actually been much more willing to chat after he asked if she and Ivan were dating).

He ran through all the millions of ideas in his head. He could try more pick-up lines, or poetry, or serenading him he guessed, or he could just grab his shoulders and kiss him right there (Kiku had actually sent him a text suggesting against this idea). Ugh, why was this so difficult?

As he stepped into the gym, he took a deep breath. _Wing it,_ he decided, striding up to the door to the locker room. _I'll just wing it. Nothing too bad can happen, right? Right. Okay._ He grabbed the handle, pulling it open with a deep breath. Getting a Boyfriend, Take—

Arthur slammed straight into him, causing him to yelp and stumble backward. "Ack!" He stood there dumbly for a second, staring down at his friend, who seemed almost as startled. "A-Arthur, what're—?"

"Sorry excuse me," Arthur stammered distractedly, shoving quickly past him, his face as white as chalk.

Alfred blinked, turning after him. "Arthur? You okay dude—"

"F-Fine, I'm f—N-No wait, no I'm actually feeling a little sick I think I should probably go down to the nurse's or something. Don't worry about it, I'll be fine," Arthur told him.

Alfred stared after him, unsure of what to do. He considered going after him when a voice behind him spoke up. "He's not sick! He's just gonna try to skip class again today!"

Alfred turned toward the voice, then groaned slightly. "Yo dude, Feli, you gotta remember to put some clothes on, seriously," he muttered uncomfortably.

Feliciano, once again half-naked in a pair of bright orange shorts, laughed slightly at him. "What? No, it's the swimming unit today!" He told him with a large grin. "I love swimming so much, and I bought this new swimsuit too! Didn't you remember to buy a swimsuit?"

"If you didn't remember to bring one, you'll lose points," Ludwig added, passing by uncomfortably, wearing a pair of ridiculous goggles and a blue bathing suit.

Alfred blinked, just remembering the announcement from the Friday before. "Oh yeah, I totally forgot about that! I mean, I think I remembered to pack a bathing suit," he amended when he saw the annoyed glare Ludwig sent him. "Just gotta check." He started fishing through his backpack, when he heard shouting from behind him.

"_Why the hell can't you just write me a bloody hall pass?_" Arthur yelled furiously at the teacher, his voice angry but his eyes still looking vaguely panicked. "I won't even be gone long—I-I don't even have a swimsuit, so I can't even swim anyway what does it matter—?"

Alfred watched curiously for a moment, taking a few steps into the locker room. "Um, he's gonna be okay, right?" He asked.

"Ja, he'll get over it," Ludwig answered. "And the pool is this way, Feliciano!" He snapped at his spacey friend, who'd been on his way out the set of doors leading to the hallway. "Mein Gott, am I supposed to hold your hand all day?"

"Ve~ Sure!" Feliciano grabbed his hand.

Ludwig stiffened. "T-That's not what I—get off!"

"Huh? Why?"

"JUST GET OFF!"

Alfred changed quickly and followed after them into the next room over, grimacing slightly at the overpowering smell of chlorine. He was fairly sure that the pool contained enough of the stuff to kill a baby elephant. It stretched for what seemed like half a football field (the _real_ kind of football, dunno what Arthur was talking about), and was a deep blue, which freaked him out a little bit.

The room was humid and hard to breathe in, but the pool must've been ice cold judging by the reactions of the kids shivering in the water. He crept toward the water's edge and prodded the surface with his toe. Yup, like ice, just as he'd thought. He sighed, then quickly sucked in a breath and hopped into the water, flinching as the freezing water hit him then quickly going numb. The water was much deeper than he'd anticipated.

He surfaced as Arthur stiffly walked into the room, still pale and fully clothed. Alfred caught his eyes and grinned, climbing out of the water and onto the slick grey tiles. "Y-Yo Artie!" He called through chattering teeth, rubbing his arms. "What t-took you so long?"

"Shut it," he snapped back, and Alfred was beginning to hear the faint edge of hysteria. "Just—just shut it."

"…Arthur?" Alfred frowned at him. "Dude, are you alright?"

Arthur glared at him, then told him, "I'm fine, it's just difficult to breathe in this damn room." He took a deep breath. "And the water is probably freezing as all hell."

"Pfft hell's not cold."

Arthur blinked. "What?"

"I-I mean, the waters not that cold," Alfred corrected quickly, laughing nervously. "All you gotta do is jump in real quick and you barely even feel it!"

"I'm not leaping in like an idiot. A-And there's still the issue of the bathing suit," he continued.

"Dude, just swim in your clothes."

Arthur glared at him. "I can't just—"

A shrill whistle cut through the chattering of the students. "_Everyone in the water!_" The teacher shouted, aiming a sharp glare in Arthur's direction. Alfred could see it taking all of Arthur's willpower not to flip the teacher off.

Alfred waited a moment before nudging his friend with his elbow. "Um, I think he means you," he told him.

"I know bloody well who he means! And don't touch me, your arm's all wet," He snapped back, pushing him away with a scowl. "I just…I'm not just jumping in fully dressed! I'd look idiotic! And…A-And I…"

"Jeez, Artie, it's not even that big of a deal," Alfred laughed, elbowing him again, being sure to get him as wet as possible. "You don't wanna get in trouble, do you? Besides, you don't got anything in your pockets, right?"

"Well no—"

"Then come on!" Alfred grabbed his arm, grinning toothily.

Arthur didn't respond for a moment, as Alfred pulled him toward the pool. "W…W-Wait, wait Alfred—"

"In ya go~!" And before Arthur could say anything, Alfred tossed him into the water with a laugh.

"_WAIT ALFR—_"

There was a loud splash, cutting him off.

Alfred laughed, grinning down at the rippling water. Several other people nearby had looked over, a few chuckling along with him. "Aw man, the look on his face…" he mumbled to himself, still grinning, looking down at the water. He waited for a moment for Arthur to resurface. His grin fading slightly as the seconds ticked by. He stood there, staring dumbly at the water. Until someone spoke up, somewhere off to the right.

"Hey, can he swim?"

It took a second for that thought to fully sink in. "…AW SON OF A BITCH!" He screamed, then scrambled forward, practically diving head first into the pool.

It took a few seconds of disorientation before he managed to look around, squinting through the churning water. He reached forward, grabbed Arthur's arms, and quickly hoisted him up, breaking the surface with a gasp. "A-Arthur?" He wheezed, grabbing the edge of the pool. "Arthur, are you okay—?"

"YOU IDIOTIC TWAT—" Arthur choked, coughing and shaking uncontrollably, grabbing onto Alfred's arm for dear life. "YOU MORON—"

Several people had run over, reaching down and helping the two of them out of the freezing water, all shouting at once. Arthur continued coughing up water, on his knees. Alfred scrambled over next to him. "D-Dude, are you okay? Jeez why the hell didn't you say you couldn't swim, holy shit you could've died—!"

"Shut up you wanker I swear to god—" Another gasping cough, he grabbed his chest.

"D-Do you need mouth-to-mouth?" Alfred stammered.

Arthur glared at him. "_Why the fuck would—?_" More choking before he could finish.

Alfred grimaced, climbed to his feet, then grabbed Arthur, pulling him up after him. "O-Okay dude I think we should head to the nurse's office, 'kay?"

"I hate you so much."

Alfred cringed slightly. He led him quickly out through the lockers, grabbing the first two towels he could find and wrapping one around Arthur's shoulders. Arthur's clothes were sopping wet, clinging to his body as he walked, and his usually unkempt hair was plastered to his face and head. He was still faintly shivering, his teeth chattering, glaring over at Alfred every few seconds. Alfred glanced guiltily away, pulling the towel (bright pink, pretty sure it belonged to that one Polish kid) over his own shoulders.

When they finally reached the nurse's office, the nurse groaned. "You two again?"

"Yeah, hey, how're you doin'?"

"Just sit down."

Alfred nodded, walking Arthur over to the same cot from the week before. Wait, a week? Really, it had only been that long? He sighed, shaking his head. "Artie, you feeling all right."

"Oh I feel wonderful," he wheezed, "just let me get my lungs back into my body I think they fell out at some point."

"Listen, dude, seriously, I'm sorry," Alfred started.

"Oh wonderful," he replied darkly. "_No problem, Alfred, it's perfectly fine! I just almost died is all, no hard feelings!_"

"Oh come on, I jumped in and got you, didn't I?" He protested. "No way I'd actually let you drown! And it's not my fault I didn't know you couldn't swim!"

"Being an ignorant prat doesn't excuse you," he snapped, pulling the towel tightly around his shoulders, still shivering. "Damn water was like ice…"

"The nurse might have some spare clothes and stuff," Alfred told him. "Want me to go ask?" When Arthur refused to answer, he sighed and stood up, walking back into the office. He tried to find something that seemed like it would fit Arthur's skinny frame, but most everything seemed like it would be big even on Alfred. He eventually grabbed a wrinkled T-shirt and some old faded jeans, slipping back into the room. "Um, here," he mumbled.

Arthur yanked the clothes out of his hands in silence, still fuming as he stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

Alfred groaned, pressing the palms of his hands to his forehead. Damn it he'd been so close! And then what did he do? He threw him into a pool. What the heck was he thinking? He flopped sideways onto the hard cot. "Damn it…"

He laid there until Arthur strode back in, his misshapen clothes half hanging off his frame. Arthur glared over at him, tossing the towel at his face as he sat down on the other side of the cot. "Wanker…" he mumbled.

"Dude, shut up."

"No."

The ensuing silence made Alfred want to scream. His plans from earlier passed through his head, making him want to scream even more. He needed to say something, but nothing came to mind. Finally, he looked up and asked, "Hey Artie, you have a band-aid?"

"We're in the nurse's office, idiot."

"'Cause I scraped my knee falling for you."

Arthur blinked blankly, then looked at him. "Excuse me?"

"Is there an airport nearby?"

Arthur groaned. "Alfred, seriously—?"

"Or is that just my heart taking off?"

"What the hell are you doing?" He snapped. "Alfred, those lines are terrible. Leave me alone. A-Are you really this stupid?"

"Y'know, if I could rearrange the alphabet I would put 'U' and 'I' together."

Arthur put his face in his hands, shaking his head, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. "Oh my god, you really are this stupid…"

"Uh huh," Alfred replied, seeing the smirk on his face. "Should I start comparing you to a midsummer's day now?"

"Don't even think about it." Arthur grabbed the towel, balled it up, and threw it at Alfred's head again. "I swear to god, Alfred…"

"'Cause you're both pretty hot."

Arthur paused, then started laughing slightly, shaking his head. "You are just the…_worst _kind of person, you know that?"

"Yup, I'm awful." Alfred grinned at him. "But you gotta look on the bright side, you're no longer soaking wet!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Well for the most part," he mumbled. "My hair is still drenched and I'm still freezing."

Alfred's grin widened. "D'ya need a hug?"

"W…What no of course not—!"Alfred of course cut him off with a big hug. Arthur yelped slightly, squirming in the embrace, trying to elbow Alfred's stomach. "Get off of me you moron, you're still soaking wet!"

"You forgive me yet, dude?" Alfred asked him.

Arthur paused for a second, scowling up at him. He seemed to mull it over in his head for a minute. Eventually, he relaxed slightly, almost leaning against Alfred's arm. "Ugh, fine, whatever," he mumbled dryly. "But only as long as you never try to kill me again, got it?"

"Pfft, why would I ever try to kill you?" Alfred asked, smiling at his friend. "I'mma super hero, remember? Superheroes don't kill damsels in distress."

"Ha ha, you're hilarious," He muttered, his eyelids beginning to droop. They sat there for a moment. "Damn, now that the adrenaline rush is gone, I feel exhausted…" He sighed slightly. Then he leaned his head against Alfred's shoulder.

Alfred stiffened, looking over, startled to realize his face was only inches away from Arthur's. Arthur had closed his eyes again, not with his usual thoughtful scowl, just looking…peaceful. Almost contented. Alfred swallowed, face feeling warm, arms still wrapped loosely around his friend. _Say something, asshole,_ his mind was screaming. _Say something!_

"I don't know CPR," he blurted.

Arthur frowned, opening his eyes. "…What?"

"B-But um," Alfred coughed nervously, feeling his friend's confused eyes on him. "But I would've given it to you…if you needed it…"

Arthur blinked, then laughed slightly, rolling his eyes. "My hero," he mumbled, an amused smirk playing across his face. "Thank you, I suppose."

"You're welcome," he breathed. Then he grabbed Arthur's shoulders, and kissed him full on the lips.

It only lasted a few seconds. Or maybe minutes. Alfred really didn't have enough conscious thought to figure out exactly how long it was, or to care in particular. All thoughts in his mind were occupied with the thin British boy in his arms, and his soft lips, and his own heart pounding in his chest and ears and then, quite abruptly, Arthur yelped, jerking backward and almost reeling backward off of the cot.

They stared at each other, Arthur's eyes no longer dull and sleepy but wide and startled, sitting there stiffly, his face a deep scarlet. He opened and closed his mouth a few, like he wanted to speak but couldn't find any words. Finally, in a voice sounding so unlike his own, he stammered, "I-I should probably get to class," and practically sprinted from the room.

Alfred remained rooted to the spot, until a familiar ringing brought him back to his senses. He reached into his pocket and answered his phone. "Kiku, what just happened?"

* * *

_Hooray for awkward kissing scenes! One of the best kinds of kissing scenes~!_

_So I asked my dad for a good pick up line for earlier and he replies, "Hey my syphilis is almost gone." I decided to just Google some instead and never think about it again… God you find a lot of terrible (and a few racist) pick-up lines on the internet._


	16. Second Opinion

Arthur walked dazedly into his apartment, letting his backpack clatter to the floor with a loud thud. He let his coat drop to the floor as well, and kicked his shoes off haphazardly. He walked into the first room, toward his couch, sitting down slowly.

Alfred had kissed him.

Alfred had _kissed_ him.

_Alfred_ had kissed him.

_Alfred had kissed him_.

With that sentence repeating in his head over and over and _over_ again, he buried his burning face in his hands, eyes popping out of their sockets. Because Alfred had kissed him. Alfred had kissed _him_. And Alfred's lips had been slightly chapped and his hands probably left bruises on Arthur's shoulders and Arthur hadn't ever wanted it to end and _HOLY SHIT ALFRED HAD KISSED HIM_.

He took a deep, shuttering breath, slapping his face a few times. _Calm down, Arthur,_ he told himself. _Calm down, it was probably just…some stupid fluke, some idiotic idea he got into his head from those morons during study hall. He wouldn't have…he couldn't have actually…_

He shut his eyes tightly. He could still feel how Alfred's lips pressed against his own for those few quick seconds, even if they had been awkward and clumsy and nervous and—_AGH STOP IT!_ He shook his head, trying to clear the thought out of his head, trying to calm down. Why was he so worked up about it, it was just a stupid kiss! Just a stupid…

He swallowed faintly, his face still scarlet. _Distraction, _he thought vaguely to himself. _I need a distraction…_ He started rifling though his backpack quickly, searching for something to do or read, when suddenly a crumpled piece of paper fell from the open bag and onto his foot. He could only read one thing scrawled across the front.

Alfred F. Jones.

He stared at it. Then he kicked it as hard as he physically could, sending it careening across the room, and in the process ramming his foot into a small table.

"OW BLOODY—_GYAH_!" He tripped backward onto the couch, landing sideways on the cushions and cursing as loud as he could. He lay there for at least five minutes, his head starting to spin. What was he supposed to do? He wished he had someone he could talk to, but unfortunately the only person he could think of to talk to was the problem in the first place…

A thought crossed his mind. He froze, then shook his head. _No, no no no, there is no way in hell I am talking to _Francis_ about this!_ He thought furiously. He sat up slowly, seeing his phone out of the corner of his eye. _No,_ he told himself angrily. _I don't even think I could get a call through to him, and why would I want to anyway it's not like he's ever given a shit about me._

He sent another sideways glare toward the phone, his foot starting to restlessly tap against the floor.

Then he scrambled to his feet and dived at the phone, cursing furiously once again. He pressed a few buttons, racking his brain for the exact method of calling heaven, something he had never done because he'd never had a need to. Finally, he started pressing buttons, the numbers coming to his mind much too slowly. He pressed the phone to his ear, hearing it ring. Then, a female voice answered. "Hello?"

Arthur paused, startled by a female voice. Then, remembering he was calling _Francis_, he shook his head quickly. "Is Francis there?" He demanded. "This is Arthur. I need to speak to him right now."

"Um, he should be…one second…Francis?" He heard her muffle the phone receiver with her hand, calling out. Then murmured voices, more muffled movements, then a familiar voice said, "Arthur? _You're_ calling _moi?_"

"Really, Francis? Really? You've been back to heaven for less than a year and you're already sleeping around? Isn't that how you got into trouble the first time?" Arthur asked.

"What? Non, how mean of you, I haven't even slept with her yet…" Francis protested.

"Right, how very reassuring," Arthur muttered, rolling his eyes.

He could hear the rustle of Francis shaking his head faintly. "No need to feel jealous, mon cher," he replied, and Arthur could almost see his smug look as he leaned back, "once you get home you can have plenty of alone time with Big Brother~!"

_Once I get home…_ Arthur echoed silently. "A-Actually, um, I need to talk to you about…about something, um…"

He heard Francis gasp dramatically before he could finish. "Did you finally lose your virginity?" He asked. "Oh, tell me all about it! I want to hear all about every single lustful moan—"

"T-That is NOT what I—why the hell do you automatically assume I'm a—Francis, shut the hell up, I'm being serious!" Arthur snapped, flushing darkly. "I-It has nothing to do with that!"

Francis chuckled quietly for a moment, eventually calming enough to say, "Well? I am listening, Arthur."

Arthur paused for a moment, trying to find the words for what he'd been thinking. "Well…it's about that Alfred boy you met the other day…"

"Was the sex any good?"

"_**WE DID NOT HAVE SEX!**_"

There was a huge thud from the apartment next door, accompanied by an angry shout of, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Arthur flinched, blushing when he realized that they could hear him. "_W-We did not have sex,_" he repeated in a furious whisper over Francis's hysterical laughter. "_So ask one more time and I ram my foot up your arse."_

"Désolé," Francis laughed, "I am sorry, but that was too good not to pass up…" He took a calming breath. "Now, what about that Alfred boy?"

Arthur paused, debating over whether or not he should just hang up the phone, never bring it up again, pretend like he wasn't freaking out. Instead, he said quietly, "Well, he…kissed me…"

Francis paused. "Was he drunk?"

"_No he was not drunk_," he snapped. "He was just…I mean, he'd been trying to cheer me up with cheesy pick-up lines and…a-and I mean it was nice and all, but then he just…he just kissed me, and—"

"And you're telling me this _didn't _lead to sex?" Francis asked, sounding much too amused for Arthur's liking.

"Of course not!" Arthur almost shouted. "We were in the middle of the school—"

"Never stopped me~!"

"Shut it, frog, I don't need to hear about anything you'd have to say on the matter. And anyway, after he kissed me, I kind of…" he paused, feeling his face turning redder by the second, and not enjoying the feeling, "…I sort of ran…"

Francis groaned. "You…_ran_," he repeated.

"Yes, I ran, Francis, I _ran,_ I just bolted right out of there as fast as I physically could, you really should've seen it I could've beaten some world records, '_World's Fastest Idiot sprints faster than the speed of fucking light'_." Arthur put his face in his hand. "God, I don't even know why I ran, I just panicked, I don't know…"

Francis was half chuckling when he started to reply. "Mon dieu, Arthur, and here I thought you couldn't get any more awkward."

Arthur sighed softly, trying to push that line of thinking from his head. "But…but honestly, that's not quite what I needed to talk to you about."

"Well, maybe not, but really, Arthur, you can't just leave a situation like that, how on earth are the two of you going to have sex if you just leave it at that—?"

"Francis, I just told you that's not the point—"

"Oui I heard you the _first_ time but—"

"Then why the hell do you keep bringing it up I don't need any sex advice—"

"Just be quiet for a second, I'm trying to—"

"Why the hell should _I_ shut up—see, this is why I didn't want to even call you in the first place you irritable prick—!"

"Well you didn't have to, we could've just discussed your sex-life when you returned, you wouldn't be nearly as annoying if—"

"What if I don't come home?"

Francis paused for a second. Then he let out an amused chuckle, shaking his head. "Haven't we already discussed this?" He asked. "All you need to do is kill the demon and you'll get another chance, you're the one that begged me, and remember you owe me—"

"What if I don't _want_ to come home?" Arthur asked in a low voice.

Francis froze at that. Arthur could almost see his face contorting into a slight, confused frown. "What?" He asked, still chuckling, but much more faintly. "Alright, you have gotten my attention. What are you talking about?"

"I…I don't know if I want to go home just yet…" Arthur told him, feeling a knot forming in his stomach as the words left him, his eyes flickering down toward the paper on his floor. "Even if I kill this demon, and I'm given another chance and…and I'm offered a place back in heaven."

Francis was silent for a moment. Then, again, he chuckled. "Oui, and everyone keeps telling me _I'm_ the stupid one."

Arthur scowled. "Francis, I'm serious."

"And so am I!" Francis answered calmly. "Why on earth would you want to stay there? You're the one who's been complaining every day and working like the devil to get here, and suddenly you're telling me you want to stay? Did you hit your head today?"

"Shut it, frog," Arthur snapped angrily. "I've just been thinking…"

"Non, you seem to have been doing the opposite of that," Francis replied. "Really, what on earth would you want to stay for?"

Arthur didn't answer, seeing that silly, happy, stupid grin in the back of his mind, feeling those lips against his again. "…I don't…know…"

Francis was quiet. Then he asked in a soft voice, "Is it something to do with that Alfred boy?"

Arthur grimaced, unable to think of anything to say back. Finally, he stammered, "A-And so what if it…? I-I mean, it was just a…just a thought…" He paused, shutting his eyes. He sort knew what he wanted to say, but he couldn't find any words to explain it. He barely understood it himself.

He heard Francis sigh slightly. "Arthur, I really don't think that boy is important enough to completely give up—"

"You wanted to stay at one point, didn't you?" He asked suddenly, recalling that day almost a year ago.

Francis froze, startled by Arthur's question. "O-Of course not," Francis protested quickly. "And even if I did—"

"You wanted to stay," Arthur repeated loudly. "You wanted to stay here with those two idiots you called friends—"

"That is completely different," Francis snapped, and Arthur could hear him beginning to get irritated. "And they're not just 'those idiots', they were my friends—"

"Keyword being _'were'_," Arthur repled. "They '_were_' your friends—"

"—and all you want to stay for is some kid you only just met!" Francis finished hotly.

"His name is Alfred F. Jones!" Arthur objected. "He's not some kid—I'm not that big of an idiot, Francis!"

"Then why do you want to stay?" Francis asked.

"Because I—" Arthur stopped, a thousand thoughts going through his head. "…because I think I might…"

Francis had gotten quiet. "…love him?" He put in dryly, before Arthur could finish. Arthur's mouth had gone dry. He sat there for a moment, feeling those two words sinking in. Was that what he'd been feeling? Love? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Francis said slowly, "Arthur, as much as I like love stories, this is a terrible idea."

"Oh and why is that?" He wanted to scream, but it came out as a murmur.

"He's a human!" Francis cried exasperatedly.

"So? What is so bad about that?"

"Well what will happen when he sees your wings?" Francis asked him. "I'm sure you haven't told him about your being an angel. How on earth do you think he'd take that?"

Arthur paused. "I-I'm sure it won't matter," he told him softly, his heart sinking. It was true, how the hell was someone supposed to take news like that? How would Alfred even respond to wings? Would he think him a freak of nature? "H-He'd like me anyway," he told him.

"Arthur—"

"Hell I could prove it, I could show him my wings and he wouldn't care—!"

"_Arthur!_" Francis had to shout for his friend to even hear him. "You're being stupider than usual—"

"Oh come off it," Arthur shouted as loud as his voice would go. And then, before Francis could speak, he hung up, almost breaking the phone as he did.

He stood there, breathing heavily, not even completely aware that he'd stood up at some point during the argument. His heart was beating painfully in his chest, and his mind was swimming. He couldn't even think straight any more, or breathe or…

Why the hell had that made it so much worse? What the hell was he supposed to do now?

…ugh, worst idea ever…

…

He stood up then, unbuttoning his shirt and pealing the still slightly-damp material from his body. He threw it to the floor, and strode over to the mirror on the wall, spreading his large, white wings out behind him. His feathers were still wet and drooping, and seemed matted together.

He wasn't a human. He was an angel.

In the back of his mind, he wondered what Alfred would think of that…

* * *

_And the plot thickens..._

_Désolé ~ Sorry_

_Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrated it! Hope you all ate plenty of turkey and pumpkin pie! And if you didn't celebrate it, hope you all enjoyed doing something else!_

_This would be longer but I seriously need to post this now before I have to do a bunch of stuff today. Ugh I need sleep._


	17. Reasoning and Logic Sort Of Not Really

Alfred sat in his study hall seat, staring at the door once again, something which had gotten to be habitual for him. He hadn't thought he could be any more on edge than he had been yesterday. This thought was proven false.

What he was going to do when Arthur finally showed up, he honestly had no idea. His first impulse was to spew as many awful pick-up lines as physically possible, but he really doubted that would get him anywhere. He really didn't want to ask for advice again after the disastrous results of yesterday. Maybe he should just pretend it never happened, cut his losses, go back to being friends and not kiss and stuff. Right. Perfect. Okay.

Just then, Arthur strode into the room, eyes down, his thoughtful scowl across his face. Alfred sat up quickly. "HEY ARTHUR!" He shouted, then cringed at his own voice, coughing nervously. "I-I mean uh, hey Artie wassup?" He asked.

Arthur glanced up at him, sitting down slowly. "…nothing," he answered slowly.

"Heh, good…" he mumbled back, rubbing his arm. "You, uh…you dry yet?"

Arthur sighed. "Yes, I am," he muttered back.

"Yeah, good…" They sat there silently, the tension almost tangible. Alfred glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, seeing him glance away. Finally, he took a deep breath.

"So about yesterday—"

"Listen, Alfred—"

They both froze, having spoken at the same time. Alfred started laughing nervously, Arthur flushing slightly and grimacing. They sat there again, neither sure if he should continue. Finally, Alfred lifted his hand. "U-Um, listen, sorry about yesterday," he said quickly.

Arthur looked up at him, dryly replying, "For what, drowning me or…" He paused, face still faintly red.

"For both," Alfred told him. "I mean, hell yeah about drowning you but I mean for the—the kissing too, it was kinda dumb of me, probably should've asked first, I mean…I mean I just shouldn't have kissed you at all is what I meant, 'cause we're friends, and not supposed to kiss and stuff since you don't like me that way and I…uh…" He stopped, having completely lost his train of thought. "S-So yeah," he finished lamely.

Arthur scrutinized him closely. Alfred started fidgeting under his friend's stare, twiddling his thumbs and shifting in his seat. After what felt like an eternity, Arthur spoke up. "Do you?"

"…do I what?" Alfred asked dumbly.

"Do you…like me that way?" Arthur asked, his green eyes locked on Alfred's.

Alfred stiffened. He stared back at him, eyes wide. Then, he blurted, "Nope. No way, course not. Pfft what a dumb…question…" He rubbed at the back of his neck.

Arthur didn't move, but for a split second, Alfred could've sworn his eyes looked disappointed. "Right, I figured as much, never mind." He turned away, shaking his head calmly. "It doesn't matter anyway, does it?"

Alfred stared at him for a moment in confusion. "Do…Do _you_?"

Arthur paused. "…do I what?" He snapped after a moment.

"Do you like _me_ that way?" Alfred asked him, turning in his seat, head cocking the way it so often did when he asked Arthur questions.

"No, of course not, idiot," Arthur told him sullenly, still not looking in his direction. "Why would I like a git like you anyway?"

"I dunno. 'Cause I'm attractive."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, how very modest of you," he replied.

"And 'cause I'm cool."

"Yes, you are the absolute epitome of 'cool'," he muttered.

"And I'm a good kisser!" Arthur's eyes twitched in annoyance, glaring at him. Alfred coughed quickly, muttering, "Sorry, sorry, never mind, dude…"

Arthur eventually just shook his head, turning away. "Honestly…" he muttered.

Alfred watched his friend's face, trying to think of what to say. "But…just saying, um…if you…_did_…like me…" he faltered slightly when Arthur glowered at him. "I-I mean, hypothetically," he corrected quickly. "A-And if…if, y'know, I…liked you back…"

Arthur was staring back at him at this point, his face an unreadable mask. Alfred was debating whether or not to continue babbling like an idiot or just sink through the floor and never be heard from again. "…a-again this is all, like, hypothetical or whatever but…but would you…"

"Kesese~ This is way better than TV."

Alfred jumped, grabbing his chair before he tumbled off the side and turning around. Gilbert and Antonio were laughing smugly to themselves. "Sorry, my bad," Gilbert grinned.

"Sí, go ahead, keep going," Antonio told him, motioning with his hands.

Alfred groaned. "Seriously, leave me alone. Do you guys like get off on this or something what the hell?" They both just laughed at him of course, before Gilbert motioned over Alfred's shoulder. Alfred blinked in confusion, then turned. Arthur had gotten up as soon as Alfred turned around, and started making his way through the room. Alfred frowned. "Dude? Yo Artie?"

Arthur slipped into the bathroom, not looking over when Alfred called. Alfred cocked his head again, his lips pouting slightly. Then he hopped to his feet and headed after him, wondering what the hell Arthur was trying to do by leaving.

He paused in the doorway, seeing Arthur staring at his reflection in the grimy mirror. He looked deep in thought, his brows furrowed once again. Alfred watched him for a second, before slowly creeping over. "Um, Arthur?" He questioned.

Arthur glanced at him, with the sort of annoyed look that said 'Why the hell did you follow me into the bathroom'. Alfred laughed sheepishly, sidling up next to him. "Eheh, uh sorry. But you kinda walked off a sec, I was…I mean, what'cha doing anyway?"

"I'm…going to use the loo," Arthur muttered back. "Just go away for a minute."

"The what?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Oh never mind," he shot back, turning to glare at him.

"Is the 'lew' the bathroom, 'cause you're just kinda staring at the mirror…"

"Go away."

Alfred frowned, leaning against the wall next to the sink. "Dude, can't I just—"

"No, I'm busy."

"Doing what?"

"What the hell do you want, Alfred?"

"…I-I wanna ask you out."

Arthur froze before he could make a retort, blinking. Then, sighing, he shook his head, turning back toward the mirror. "No you don't," he told him calmly.

Alfred stared at him, not sure how to respond to that assertion. "…um, yeah I do?"

"Trust me, Alfred, no you don't," Arthur said quietly, rubbing his shoulder, green eyes focused on the floor.

"Err, why not?" He asked slowly, laughing slightly.

Arthur stood there, still staring at his reflection in the mirror. "Just…Just trust me. I wouldn't be a…I…I'm not really the dating type anyway," he said, seeming to be talking more to himself.

Alfred didn't speak for a second, looking at Arthur's reflection too. "Well why not?" He asked.

"Well…Well we've only known each other a few weeks," Arthur told him.

"More like a few months dude…and didn't Romeo and Juliet know each other like three days?"

"W-Well…well yes but…" Arthur paused, trying to think of something. "But I mean we barely…know each other."

"Pfft, I know you pretty well, dude," he told him confidently. "And besides, wouldn't dating solve that problem?" Alfred tried to give him a dazzling smile, with got him a scowl in return. "And," he added, "I mean, we're in high school how long do we gotta wait 'til we can date?"

Arthur looked frustrated, trying to think, trying to keep scowling at Alfred, although he could tell Arthur was starting to run out of excuses. Finally Arthur said, "I'm…moving back to England soon."

Alfred didn't respond for a moment. His face fell slightly. "W…Wait, you are?"

"So you see it…wouldn't really work anyway, us dating…" Arthur shook his head. "Better to just…leave it as it is…"

Alfred stared at him. "Wait, you're moving? But…" He looked closely at him, hoping he was just making things up. "Dude, you can't move. I mean, who else here has a funny British accent I can make fun of?"

Arthur glared at him. "I'm sure you'll get by," he muttered.

"Well…I mean, you can't just go…" Alfred shook his head, thinking hard. Then his eyes lit up. "Or I could just move to England too!"

Arthur's mouth fell open. "…you're joking, right?"

"No way man, this is completely serious. Dude, I'm movin' to England."

Arthur just shook his head, getting annoyed. "Alfred, ignoring from the fact that that was a terrible idea, how the hell would you get to England?"

"Dunno. Plane I'm guessing."

"You can't just move to England!" Arthur told him. "You're…You're fourteen for one thing!"

"Almost fourteen-and-a-half, my b-day's in July—"

"_You're still fourteen!_" Arthur yelled. "That doesn't change a damn thing, you can't just move to England on a whim."

"Then…Then we can send each other postcards!" Alfred grinned at his own genius.

Arthur frowned. "What?"

"Yeah, like pen pals and stuff! Like…y'know, long distance! And we could talk on the internet and stuff like that, and talk on the phone, there're plenty of ways we could still do things!"

Arthur shut his eyes, taking a deep breath, starting to look almost tired. "I don't really…do long distance relationships," he told him quietly. "Really Alfred, just drop this whole thing, we're not going out, it would never work."

Alfred shook his head angrily. "Dude, saying 'it won't work' isn't a good excuse!" He told him, starting to get frustrated. "So you're gonna move. Make a Facebook or something! And you're not the dating type? The hell does that even mean?"

"Alfred—"

"Nope, shut up!" Alfred crossed his arms. "It's my turn to talk."

Arthur blinked. "What…? Alfred, seriously—"

"Kay, reasons that you should date me," He interrupted quickly, thinking hard (Arthur looked about ready to strangle him). "Reason one: I would be the greatest boyfriend ever, just sayin'."

"Alfred, this is absolutely ridiculous—"

"And I'd remember anniversaries and buy you stuff and write really shitty poems on them," Alfred continued, completely ignoring his friend by this point. "And I'd get to come up with some way better nicknames than Artie and Dude and, lemme think… Oh, reason number two: I'm really attractive, which is always a plus."

Arthur had buried his face in his hands by this point. "Alfred, that's not a real reason—"

"And _you're_ really attractive too, so the two of us together would be like twice as great," Alfred continued, grinning at him.

Arthur looked taken aback as he looked up at him. "O-Okay, first of all, I am not attractive," Arthur tried to protest, face reddening.

"Reason three: You," he leaned closer, grin getting bigger, "like me."

"I-I most certainly do not!" Arthur snapped back, leaning backward, eyes wide. "Alfred—"

"And number four, I just looked up a ton of new pick-up lines—"

"Alfred!" Arthur shouted, face red with a strange combination of embarrassment and fury. Alfred finally paused for a moment. "Alfred, I do _not_ like you, and we are _not_ going out! Why on earth are you so persistent with this?"

Alfred paused for a second. "Um, 'cause I really like you and kinda wanna kiss you right now?"

Arthur froze. Neither of them moved for a minute, green eyes locked on blue. Then Alfred leaned closer, ever so slightly. "S-So, um…am I allowed to kiss you?" He questioned weakly, a nervous smile playing across his lips.

Arthur shook his head slowly.

Alfred paused, then asked, "I-If I kissed you anyway, would you be pissed?"

Arthur didn't move, then, again, gave a small shake of the head.

Alfred swallowed, then slowly leant in, and pressed his lips against Arthur's.

This time, Arthur didn't jerk back, or shout or anything. Instead he stood there stiffly as Alfred pressed their lips together, seeming frozen in place like a statue. Alfred paused, and then moved to pull back, to apologize quickly and never bring it up again, when he felt Arthur move slightly, and then those lips were being pressed back against his own. And Alfred almost jumped, eyes widening as Arthur's shut tightly, leaning closer, and Alfred pressed back, eyes shutting and arms snaking quickly around Arthur's waist and his lips moving against Arthur's and—

_**SLAM**_

They both jumped and looked up as Matthew Williams quickly scurried out of a nearby stall and past them, eyes wide and face beet red. "S-Sorry, 'scuse me," he stammered, washing his hands then dashing out the door as fast as his legs could carry him.

There was a long, mortified silence as both Arthur and Alfred stared at the doorway. Then, unable to control himself, Alfred started giggling, then laughing, then practically falling over Arthur and onto the floor laughing so hysterically that tears threatened to pour down his face. Arthur just remained rooted to the spot, eyes wide, staring from Alfred to the door and back to Alfred. Then he started shouting, "YOU IDIOT WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT WHAT THE HELL STOP LAUGHING I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL MURDER YOU!" He hit him a few times.

Alfred sat back up, still red in the face and laughing, more from nerves than anything else, his heart still pounding in his throat and his stomach twisting like he'd swallowed a butterfly, or twenty of them. "H-Hey dude," he laughed.

"_WHAT?_"

"I just thought of some more reasons why you should date me."

Arthur paused, and Alfred could help but grin even wider when Arthur's face darkened about ten shades. "I-I-I—A-Alfred really I-I can't—"

"Come on dude, if you want more proof that you like me we can just go ask Mitch!"

"I always thought his name was Marvin—WAIT NO WE ARE NOT ASKING HIM!" Arthur almost screamed. "I am _not_ dating you, I can't I—I-I'm not…" He was shaking his head frantically, face still red. "I can't…"

Alfred looked at him, pouting ever so slightly. Then he reached out and grabbed Arthur's hand. "Pleeaase?" He asked.

Arthur looked up at him, lips pressed together. He opened his mouth, then shut it anxiously, then took a deep breath. "I-If…" he started, then stopped. Seeing Alfred perk up, he glared. "_If,_" he repeated, "I was to say yes…_and that is a big if,_" he insisted when he saw Alfred's face lighting up, "well…well I…I mean I certainly wouldn't be holding your hand or…or kissing or anything I…I'm not…all that good at…you know…that sort of…"

"…y'know, I'm not seeing your point here, Arthur."

Arthur glared at him. "I-It's a maybe then…" he insisted, nervously turning away.

Alfred grinned at him. "And by that, you mean 'yes' right?"

"No, I mean 'maybe'. As in 'Huh maybe he's not quite as much of an arse as I thought'."

"…so…like a yes…"

"Ugh…" Arthur rolled his eyes, and walked out of the room, still red and still scowling, making it impossible to tell that he was practically soaring on the inside. And Alfred just followed after him, grinning from ear to ear, because hell freaking yes, he got a 'maybe'~…

* * *

_Oh my gosh why was Matthew even in there I wasn't even going to write that then suddenly I just typed it out what even was that oh gosh…He was probably just in there crying in peace and suddenly those two just burst in and started making out I don't know why that's so funny._

_This took forever because I rewrote it twice but I managed to finish oh happy day._


	18. London's Bridges Burning Down

It was Friday.

The Friday after Alfred had asked him out.

Just an average Friday.

At least that's what Arthur was telling himself as he stood in his bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Because it wasn't like he cared at all that Alfred was coming over. Not at all. In fact, he really couldn't have cared less. It wasn't even a real date…

Arthur grimaced at his reflection, his wings shifting behind him the way they always did when he felt agitated. Of course it wasn't a date, why on earth would it even be a date? It wasn't like Arthur had actually said yes or anything. They weren't actually boyfrie…boyf…ugh, even trying to think the word made Arthur's mind turn to static. And gave him the strange, swooping sensation in his stomach he'd only ever felt while flying.

He sighed to himself, letting his green eyes travel over his reflection. His scrawny, messy-haired, thick-eyebrowed reflection. He'd been trying to brush his hair, which looked like a pile of straw. He really didn't see anything attractive in the glass, just…himself…

_Ding-dong_

Arthur froze. He turned toward the door, trying to see what time it was. Alfred was there already? "C-Coming!" He called, tossing the comb down and grabbing his shirt, tugging it down over his head, and stumbling out the bathroom door. "Sorry, one second!"

After finally managing to tug the shirt over his wings, he jogged toward the door. "Sorry Alfred I was in the bathroom—" He pulled open the door, then froze on the spot.

Francis smiled at him, arms crossed. "Bonjour," he said calmly, raising an eyebrow.

Arthur stood there, staring blankly at the man outside his door. He'd been ignoring Francis's calls since they'd argued the other day, although he'd only called two or three times. He certainly hadn't expected his to show up. "Francis? What the hell are you…?"

"What, you didn't expect me to just leave it at that, did you?" He asked, stepping past him with a smirk, although it seemed tired. "You don't know me at all, mon cher."

"…Well, I know that you're a bloody frog—hey I didn't invite you in!"

"You never do," he replied smoothly. "I have given up asking."

"W…Well get out!" Arthur demanded. "I'm expecting someone."

"…Oui, I figured that when you called me _Alfred_," he answered, and if Arthur hadn't known any better he would've sworn he detected a hint of bitterness in his voice. He frowned slightly, watching his friend stride farther into the apartment. "So you are really doing this?" He asked, brushing his long hair from his face. "Because if you are you are much more stupid than I had ever thought possible."

Arthur scowled. "I…I told him I was moving away soon," he said quietly. "Moving back to England. So no need to worry about the state of my sanity."

Francis paused, looking back over his shoulder at him. "Really—?"

"But if you think it has anything to do with you and your constant griping, I can assure you that _you_ were the farthest thing from my mind," he continued, glaring darkly.

Francis blinked, looking insulted. "E-Excusez-moi?" He asked.

"Oh shut it," Arthur snapped, starting to get angry. "You're obnoxious, you know that? Have any of those whores you've slept with told you that? Or maybe a one-night-stand isn't quite enough time for them to realize how much of an idiotic git you are. Well, take it from someone who has had to deal with your unrelenting shit for god only knows how long: You are the most insufferable, irritating, idiotic, self-centered bastard I have ever had the misfortune of getting to know."

Francis's eyes had widened in shock, his mouth falling open. "Excuse me?" He repeated in English. "You're telling me this after I come to see you, to—?"

"To what, check up on me?" Arthur interrupted hotly. "I'm not five years old. And I'm certainly not that child that needed help cutting his hair or learning how to fly."

Francis looked more and more affronted by the second. "I know that—"

"Oh! Really!" Arthur was beginning to shout now. "So what, were you trying to seduce me then?"

"Arthur have you been drinking—?"

"_Shut. It._" He growled. "What the bloody hell is your problem? You've been bothering me about this, about _him,_ nonstop! So what is it about him that has made you suddenly care so much? You certainly didn't care when we were sent to Earth. You _certainly_ didn't care when _you_ went back to Heaven!"

Francis stared at him. "Well…well that—"

"So don't go into any of your shit about checking up on me," Arthur finished darkly. "You're not my friend, you never have been nor will you ever be."

Francis had gone silent. Scanning Arthur face, he slowly shook his head. "Oui, of course I'm not your friend," he answered dryly. "Sorry for offering you help. Feel free to stay on this rock as long as you like. I really do not give a damn." And with that, and an annoyed sigh, he walked past Arthur, back toward the door.

Arthur stood there glaring toward the door with all the hate he could muster, before slowly sitting down.

* * *

Alfred squinted at the number he had written on his hand, walking down the short hallway of the apartment Arthur lived in. It wasn't the most…pleasant…alright the place was kind of crummy if you asked Alfred, with its creaky floors, leaky ceilings, and gray walls. It wasn't terrible by any means, but he'd imagined Arthur's home to be a lot nicer. Fancier maybe.

He sighed to himself, then strode up to the door, ready to knock. He hesitated for a moment, though, hand half-raised in front of himself.

It was their first date. Well, technically Arthur hadn't agreed to that, but it was at least their first real get together since Alfred had made an ass of himself in the public bathroom. All he had to do was not screw it up.

Alfred took another breath, then knocked on the door. He heard someone stirring, then started fumbling through his pocket, remembering that he'd bought a flower. He pulled it out, even though it was now slightly crushed, and grinned, opening the small card that he'd written (he found another baller pick-up line). He heard the door open. "Hey, are you Jamaican, 'cause—" He looked up about halfway through and froze.

A large, angry-looking Latino man was staring at him, a cigar hanging from his mouth, his face contorted in some weird mixture of confusion and irritation. Neither one of them moved for a long time. "Because what?" The man asked slowly.

Alfred blinked a few times. "Whoa, holy shit, you're not Arthur," he said dumbly.

"Why the fuck are you askin' if I'm Jamaican?" He asked darkly.

Alfred laughed. "Oh no, no I wasn't asking you, I mean…It was a pick-up line!" He grinned, then seeing the slightly-disturbed look on the other's face, quickly said, "I mean, I thought you were someone else, I wasn't using it on you, you're kinda old and stuff."

The man continued glaring at him, so he asked, "So, uh, where does Arthur Kirkland live?" The man pointed to the apartment next-door, and Alfred coughed. "Thanks. Heh…"

The door slammed in Alfred's face.

Alfred stood there for a moment, then started laughing weakly as he slid over to the next door. "Yeah, nice to meet you too, fatass…"

He raised his hand to knock on the door, and suddenly the door swung inward. Alfred flinched, lowering his hand quick upon realizing it was still not Arthur. "Sorry, wrong address—"

"No, you're in the right place," the man replied with an accent, blue eyes fixing Alfred with a cold glare, and Alfred suddenly realized that he knew this man. Francis Bonnefoy pushed past him and down the hallway, and down the stairs without a glance over his shoulder.

Alfred watched him for a second, wondering how it was physically possible for someone to walk so dramatically (he was pretty sure he flipped his hair near the end there), before eventually turning toward the door and stepping into the apartment.

The inside matched Alfred's imagination a lot more than the hallway had. The walls were white, and the floor was wood. The furniture was simple, with a couch and a small TV on a dresser. It was much neater than Alfred's apartment, save for the open backpack near the couch, its contents scattered across the coffee table.

The only odd thing he noticed was the obvious lack of pictures, or any sort of personal items. Strangely, that had been something he'd been looking forward to the most when Arthur had agreed to meeting up at his apartment. He wanted to see photos of Arthur when he was younger, or his family, pets, favorite bands, favorite movies, anything that could tell him more about his friend (or whatever it was that they were at the moment).

Arthur was sitting on the couch a few feet away, head in his hands, glaring angrily at the floor as if he were planning on burning it with his emerald-green eyes. Alfred stood back near the doorway for a moment, waiting for Arthur to look up, but when he didn't, decided to tiptoe over behind where Arthur was sitting. Arthur didn't move, but muttered, "What, did you forget something? I thought I made it clear that I wanted you out."

"Ew, you think I'm _that_ drama queen?"

Arthur jumped at hearing his voice, and whipped around. "O-Oh, Alfred," he said. "You…How did you…? When on earth did you get there?"

"I've been here for a while. Y'know. Standin' here."

Arthur blinked, then started shaking his head. "Never mind, come in. Err, I mean," he paused, the absurdity of that statement sinking in, "I mean you're already inside, but…um, make yourself at home I meant."

"Alright!" Alfred hopped over the back of the couch, landing with a thump next to Arthur, who glared at him. Alfred just smiled at him. "So, um, what was Francy-pants doin' here?" He asked, hoping his voice just sounded bored.

Arthur paused, then sighed softly, shaking his head. "I'm not sure," he said, "but I highly doubt he's coming back any time soon."

Alfred decided not to ask what that was supposed to mean, so he turned toward Arthur, leaning close, causing Arthur to glare at him once again. "So, what're we gonna do today?" Alfred asked.

Arthur thought for a second, ignoring how close the younger boy had gotten. "Well, we could always work on your homework."

Alfred scowled at him. "That would be the worst date in the history of everything."

"It's not a date!" Arthur snapped.

"Come on, Artie, it's kind of a date."

"I never agreed to that!"

Alfred pouted his lips, still leaning close. "Fine, what'cha wanna do on our 'not actually a date' date?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "I could always punch you in the mouth," he suggested darkly.

"Then you'd need to kiss it better!"

"W-Wait wha—No!" Arthur spluttered, flushing darkly. Alfred started laughing. Arthur hit his arm. "You arse, we are not kissing!"

Alfred just kept laughing for a while. _God, Arthur is so cute…_ He sighed. "So then what do you want to do?" He asked, still grinning.

Arthur threw his hands up in exasperation. "I don't know. I was still trying to decide if you were actually going to show up, I didn't…plan it out this far!"

"You thought I was gonna bail on our date?"

"_It is not a date!_"

"Dude, it's kind of a date."

"_Stop saying that!_" Arthur snapped. He stood up, glaring at Alfred. "Listen, I just—"

He was interrupted by a loud growling noise. They both froze, looking down at Alfred's stomach. After a moment, Arthur sighed, shaking his head. "Do you need a snack…?" He asked dryly.

"Yeah, sounds good," Alfred said, hopping up. "What'cha got to eat?" He started toward the room he assumed was the kitchen. Arthur blinked, turning, then started after him, protesting as Alfred slipped into the room.

He stopped when he saw a bed. "Oh, wait—"

"What're you doing?" Arthur snapped. "Get out of my room."

Alfred took a look around. The floor was still wood, but the walls were a greenish color. There still weren't any photographs, but there were some old CDs, some clothes in the corner, even a dusty record cover with those beetle guys walking across the street for reasons Alfred still didn't quite understand. "Cool room!" He told his friend.

"Right thanks now get out," Arthur retorted as Alfred walked farther into the room, still looking around. "The kitchen is the other way."

"How come you don't got any pics up?" He asked, nonchalantly rifling through the things on a small desk in the corner. He picked up a crumpled piece of notebook paper, to find a small cartoon that looked vaguely familiar…

Arthur yanked it furiously from his grip, flushing slightly. "I don't take 'pics'," he snapped.

"Come on, you gotta have something," Alfred insisted, looking up at the blank walls. "No, like, super adorable pictures of a toddler with some mutant scones and eyebrows the size of his head?"

"M-My eyebrows are not that large, thank you very much."

"You're welcome." Arthur looked about ready to punch him by the time he started opening draws. "But seriously, dude, you gotta—" Suddenly, Alfred froze. Then an impish grin spread across his face. "Hey, what's this~?"

Arthur froze. "W-What's what—?"

Alfred drew a small photograph out from under a few old pencils and a beat up crayon box. "What's this…? Whoa, is that Antonio and Gil—"

"WHAT THE HELL—GIVE ME THAT!" Arthur yelled, eyes widening, trying to swipe the photograph from Alfred's hands.

Alfred just held it away from him, pushing Arthur back, grinning. "No way, lay off man. So then that blond guy is Francis? Man he looks like a girl without that ugly beard. And who's that last…guy…?" Alfred paused, eyes widening. "…oh my god no way…"

"SHUT UP IF YOU SAY ONE WORD—"

"_OH MY GOD IS THAT YOU? __**HOLY SHIT WHAT'RE YOU WEARING?**_" Alfred roared, doubling over.

Arthur finally swiped the picture from him, flushing indignantly. "Damn it, Alfred, be quiet!" He yelled. "I-It was just a stupid faze."

"I-Is that eyeliner?" Alfred laughed still, eyes starting to water. "Holy shit, do you still have those pants?"

"Drop it!" Arthur shoved the picture back under the pencils, crumpling it as he did. "It was a faze, I grew out of it by my second year here, and you will never bring it up again!"

"I'm serious about the pants though," Alfred said, still laughing.

Arthur grabbed his arm, hauling him from the room. "No I don't," he snapped back, almost throwing Alfred. "So drop it."

"Sorry man…holy crap…" Alfred shook his head, still chuckling as he walked into the kitchen. Then he stopped abruptly. He stood there for a moment, before saying, "Dude, there's something black on your table."

"What?" Arthur peaked in after him. "Oh, I was trying to…make something," he muttered, surreptitiously pushing a French cookbook he'd been given off of a nearby counter and into an overflowing trash can.

"What were you trying to make, barf?"

"It wasn't that bad!" Arthur protested. "I just…cooked it to long is all."

"Yeah, and added tar or something." Alfred prodded it with a fork, pulling back when the fork stuck. "I-Is it moving? Jeez I think it's still bubbling or something."

"Did you want food or not?" Arthur snapped striding over to his fridge.

"Yeah I want to eat, not die." Alfred looked over Arthur's shoulder as he pulled open the fridge door, eying the strange assortment of burnt and undercooked food. "Do you do this on purpose I mean seriously wtf…"

"Shut up. What do you want to eat?"

Alfred blanched slightly. "Um, how 'bout food," he suggested. "Food sounds good."

Arthur sent him an annoyed look, but Alfred just smirked at him. "Wanna go out for real food?" He continued.

"If you're suggesting McDonalds again…" Arthur said darkly.

Alfred laughed, and shrugged slightly. "I mean, if you don't want to we could go somewhere else. Maybe go see a movie or something? Come on, so far all we've done so far today is find out about your skinny jeans—"

"Fine, we can go somewhere!" Arthur interrupted quickly. "I really couldn't care less."

Alfred grinned. "Alright!" Then he held out his hand.

Arthur eyed it disdainfully. "And just what do you think you're doing?" He asked.

"Don't you wanna hold hands?"

"No."

Alfred pouted, lowering his hand disappointedly. In the back of his mind, he decided he was going to find some way to hold Arthur's hand… He turned on his heels. "'Kay, whatever, let's get going on our date!"

"It's not a date!"

"It's _kind of_ a date—"

"ALFRED!"

* * *

_Warning: Next chapter may involve fluff. And possibly pick-up lines. Be forewarned._

_Whoa I am so glad I managed to finish this today. I won't be near a computer for about a week, so I suppose this is going to be my last post for a little while. It also may take a bit before I can answer your reviews and such. Sorry it took so much time to get up._

_So merry Christmas everyone since I won't post anything before then! Also, happy Kwanzaa, and happy belated Chanukah! And happy holidays if you celebrate something I didn't write or celebrate nothing at all!_


	19. I Wanna Hold Your Hand

The air was ice cold as they stepped outside, which caused Alfred to wince as the first puff of mist escaped from his mouth. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering slightly. Arthur couldn't help but watch him in amusement. Alfred really got cold easily, didn't he? But it couldn't have been that much warmer in the suburbs.

Thankfully, it had yet to snow and the streets and sidewalks were clear of the black, icy sludge that the city often rendered it to. Arthur glanced up at down the street, wondering what Alfred had planned for their…their not-actually-a-date. He tried to imagine something romantic, but nothing came to mind. Hell, Francis was the one obsessed with romance, not him.

And he really did not want to think about that wanker Francis at the moment.

"Y-Yo Arthur."

Broken out of his train of thought, Arthur looked over at Alfred, whose teeth were chattering uncontrollably. "S-So, um…where you wanna go to eat?"

Arthur shrugged (trying not to laugh at his idiot boyf—at Alfred) and said, "Honestly I don't care."

Alfred scowled at him. "Dude I'm freezing my ass off, I'm not thinking of a restaurant."

"Alfred, you cannot be that cold, it's almost forty degrees."

"Yeah, in like Celsius or something."

"…um, no, that…that's not even remotely correct," Arthur replied slowly.

"Whatever, just where do you wanna go?" Alfred snapped.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "If you're really that cold we could just stay at home," he suggested impatiently.

Alfred immediately shook his head. "No way dude, o-our first date's gotta be fun!"

""I-It's not a…oh you know what, fine whatever, called it what you want," Arthur sighed. "But really I think I'd have more fun at home."

"Then w-we could go somewhere, buy some food, and then rent a scary movie or something," Alfred suggested. "J-Just come on I'm so cold right now it's not even funny."

"It's a little funny," Arthur muttered under his breath with a small smirk, then said, "Alright, well we can just hop on a bus until we get to that one area downtown full of restaurants. Does that sound alright?"

Alfred nodded, and they started down the sidewalk, Alfred attempting to stealthily blow warm air over his hands while Arthur was walking ahead of him. After a moment or two, he called, "H-Hey Arthur?"

Arthur glanced back. "What?"

"You wanna hold hands?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, almost immediately tucking his hands safely into his pockets. "I thought we already discussed this," he replied.

"Y-Yeah but that was before we got outside," he mumbled.

"No, we're not holding hands. Besides, the bus stop is right here." He sat down on the bench, and Alfred, with a loud huff, plopped down next to him. It took around five minutes for the bus to arrive, and when it did Alfred practically sprinted up the narrow stairs, still shivering. Arthur laughed slightly and followed suit, paying for the both of them since Alfred had completely forgotten.

The trip there and back took almost an hour and a half. Most of the time was passed with Alfred aimlessly chatting about one thing or another, and Arthur listening in silence. It wasn't the most exciting trip, but Arthur still found himself smiling as he listened to all the silly ramblings about superheroes and ice cream. They stopped into a small Italian place and got some ready-made food (Alfred also tried to get some romantic-looking candles but that was where Arthur's tolerance for all his 'dating' nonsense ended). They also got a few movies, all of them either those Slasher movies or something about ghosts living in an abandoned house.

Once they got back to Arthur's apartment, Alfred dived at the couch, grabbing at a blanket spread across the back. "Oh man thank god!"

"Right, thanks for your help," Arthur said as he hauled the two large bags across the room and into the kitchen.

Alfred looked up at him from where he had been wrapped beneath the blanket. "Oh wait, did you remember popcorn?"

Arthur faltered, then muttered a few curse words, snapping, "Why would I remember to get popcorn?"

"Aw man, no popcorn? Dude that sucks…"

Arthur managed to hoist the bags onto his kitchen table, and glared at the doorway toward where Alfred had seated himself. "What a shame," he muttered back, before walking back into the doorway.

Alfred had sat up, stretching his arms over his head. "So we eating now?"

Arthur sighed. "Yes sure, come on, I think we bought some pizza—"

Alfred ran into the kitchen, grabbing Arthur's arm as he passed and sitting him down on one of the chairs. Arthur yelped, as suddenly Alfred started rummaging through the bags, pulling out the food and handing it to Arthur. "Alright man, and our date staaaartsss…_now!_"

Arthur blinked. "…I…need a plate…"

Alfred stared blankly at him for a second, before running toward the nearest shelf and opening every door until he found a plate (well three, two of them almost fell, but he hoped Arthur didn't see), spinning around and setting it down in front of Arthur. "Now," he amended. "Right now."

Arthur glanced down at the plate. "…and might you be forgetting anything else…?"

Alfred paused for a second, trying to think of what Arthur could be talking about. Then, snapping his fingers, he bent down and kissed Arthur. Arthur let out a yelp, almost jumping out of his seat. Alfred grinned at him, declaring, "Now the date starts!"

"You arse, I meant napkins!" Arthur shouted.

"Yeah yeah whatever, come on start eating!" Alfred sat down, grabbing food and piling it onto his plate, managing to take several large bites as he did.

Arthur watched him for a minute before deciding that he preferred to keep the contents of his stomach and slowly began nibbling on his own food.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Alfred seemed content to just devour most of the food laid out on his plate, but Arthur felt his stomach twisting into knots, and only managed to swallow a few more bites. He sat silently in his chair, glaring at his plate, which Alfred had piled high with more food that should have been humanly possible to eat. After a minute he sighed slightly, risking a glance up toward Alfred.

A pair of blue eyes looked back at him. "Aren't you gonna eat?" Alfred asked curiously, grabbing more pizza and sliding it onto his plate.

Arthur almost laughed. "No no, I think you can eat enough for the both of us."

Alfred paused, a piece of pizza halfway in his mouth. "…'s that suppos' to mean?" He demanded with a pout, pizza still comically hanging from his mouth.

Arthur finally found himself unable to keep from laughing, and pressed his hand to his mouth. "I-I'm not very hungry," he managed to say, sending a smirk toward Alfred, then pausing when he saw Alfred staring at him. "…what?" He asked.

Alfred just smiled slightly. "Whoa, you can laugh."

"…and what is that supposed to mean?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.

Alfred shrugged. "I dunno, I wasn't sure if you could actually laugh, you're always scowling and stuff."

Narrowing his eyes, Arthur muttered, "Seriously, what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you look cuter when you smile."

Arthur froze, and his face must've reddened considerably judging from Alfred's laughter. "C-C-Cute what—what're you—shut up!" He spluttered indignantly. "I am not cute, and if I don't smile it's because you're obnoxious!" He balled up his napkin and threw it at Alfred's face. "Come on, let's just go start the movie."

"Awesome!" Alfred hopped up from his seat. "We can finish dinner after! What do you wanna watch first? Oh this one seems like it's gonna be really scary, oh but this one I heard was so freaky, and this one I heard someone in bio class saying they didn't sleep for a week and…"

They strode into the next room, Arthur doing his best to ignore everything that Alfred said. He sat on the couch as Alfred started picking a movie (eenie-meenie-miney-mo). Eventually, he popped one into the DVD player and sat down next to Arthur. "Hey Artie, if you get scared you can totally hold my hand," he suggested with his usual grin.

Arthur groaned slightly. "Not if your life depended on it," he replied, as Alfred skipped through the first few commercials and to the main menu.

It started how Arthur expected it too, some mindnumbingly hackneyed plot about a man with a chainsaw killing off teenagers with little to no acting skills for no reason other than because he could. And it just kind of continued on from there, with the usual bad decision of going camping where a mass murder took place once or twice, and if the movie hadn't been a flop at the box office Arthur would officially lose all respect for human culture.

The movie did get considerably funnier when Alfred jumped at almost every predictable jump-scare. Not exactly tolerable, but at least Arthur found something to watch more than the dreadful acting on-screen. Alfred's blue eyes had widened considerably, and he was yelping every few minutes, or covering his eyes and screaming about how freaky the movie was. He was even hugging one of the small pillows lying on the couch, peaking out over the top.

The movie was much longer than Arthur would've thought possible with such an awful plotline. By the final twenty minutes Artuhr's eyelids had started to droop. _Just a little longer,_ he told himself sleepily. _Just a few more minutes and I can send Alfred on his way and get some sleep…_

And then Alfred screamed, ducking beneath the pillow. Arthur looked toward the screen to see it drenched with the fakest blood he had ever seen. He blinked warily a few times, then looked toward Alfred. The only visible part of his was that little piece of hair protruding from the top of his head, shaking uncontrollably. Arthur wasn't sure whether or not he should call it hilarious or pathetic.

Arthur watched him sit there for a minute. And hesitantly, he reached forward.

Alfred practically jumped out of his chair the moment Arthur's fingertips brushed against his hand, looking up wildly as if it were the murderer grabbing at him, which caused Arthur to jump back too. It took Alfred a full minute before he slowly lowered the pillow from his face, looking at Arthur blankly. "…dude…?"

Arthur's face had begun to redden again. "…what?" He snapped. "I-I just…um…"

Alfred grinned weakly. "D-Did you get scared, Artie?"

Arthur didn't move for a second. Then, letting out a resigned sigh, he said, "Right, I'm absolutely terrified."

Alfred's grin grew wider. Then, he leaned closer, grabbing Arthur's hand with one hand and using his other arm to snake it over Arthur's shoulders, pulling him close. Arthur stiffened, suddenly finding himself leaning against Alfred's side, his head right on his shoulder. "Alfred what the hell—?"

"Shhh, I'm trying to watch a movie," Alfred told him, laughing as he did.

Arthur stared up at him. He'd went back to watching the movie like nothing had happened. Like this was something perfectly fine and normal. Like they were actually…boyfrie…

…

…

…like they were actually boyfriends.

Arthur grinned slightly, finally able to fully form that damned word in his head. Boyfriends. They were boyfriends. They were dating. Arthur found his tired smile growing slightly, and let his head rest against the crook of Alfred's neck. And after a moment, he let his eyes fall shut.

…

Alfred was an awful demon. It was something well known throughout the farthest reaches of hell. Sure he was powerful, but he never really hurt people, or particularly enjoy it when he did. He was hyper and clumsy. He'd always been something of an oddity.

Even watching the movie, something any other demon would've found entertaining, he still felt his stomach churning at all the fake blood and screams and stuff, thinking of all those dark holes in hell he'd always try to avoid. Don't get him wrong, he thought the movie was cool, but he really shouldn't have been so easily startled.

He felt Arthur shift slightly, his head against his neck. Alfred glanced down, wrapping his arm tighter around his boyfriend. He hadn't thought Arthur would be scared at all, but as long as he was, Alfred certainly had to keep a brave face for the movie, right? It was his duty as a totally badass boyfriend.

The movie ended with the last kid getting hunted down, more fake blood, and the credits rolling. Alfred grinned, proud he'd managed to get through the whole movie. "It wasn't so bad!" He said conversationally to the boy on his shoulder. "Hell, I wasn't scared at all!" When Arthur didn't answer him, he looked over. "Dude, you okay? If you really were that freaked out we coulda turned it off—"

He froze. Arthur was fast asleep against his shoulder, a small smile on his lips. Alfred stared at him, feeling Arthur's slow breathing against his neck. He felt his face warming slightly, trying to turn toward Arthur. "D-Dude? Arthur? Arthur, wake up. The movie's over. Hey…um…" He sat there, slightly afraid to move.

He slowly started standing up, shifting Arthur in his arms, trying not to drop him or knock him off the couch. Once he had laid Arthur comfortably on the cushions, Alfred leaned over and grabbed the remote, quickly turning off the TV, which had been blaring loudly as the credits scrolled past. And suddenly the apartment was submerged in silence.

Alfred turned back toward Arthur, who, in the absence of Alfred's warmth, had curled up against a pillow. Alfred frowned, deciding that couldn't be particularly comfortable. He crept closer, flinching at the creaking of the floor before he managed to slip his arms under Arthur and haul him up. He stood there for a second, surprised at how light Arthur actually was. The guy was light as a feather.

He walked across the room and managed to nudge the bedroom door open, cursing softly when the door banged against the wall loudly. He looked down, expecting to find two angry green eyes glaring up at him, but only seeing that same sleeping face. Sighing in relief, he dashed across the room and deposited Arthur on the bed, grabbing the blankets and pulling them over his body. Then he quickly scurried out, closing the door as softly as he could.

Outside of Arthur's room, he paused, unsure of what to do now. He looked around and managed to catch sight of the food still out in the other room, and the DVDs still lying on the table, and several pillows scattered across the floor. Deciding that Arthur would kill him if he left everything out, he started piling everything up, shoving the food into the fridge and the movies into a plastic bag. The pillows he tossed onto the couch.

Once everything was as clean as Alfred could get it, he pulled out a small phone, calling his friend. "Yo, Kiku," he whispered, hoping he wasn't loud enough to wake Arthur.

"I-I did not take any pictures."

"…what?" Alfred frowned. "Why would you?"

"…you date went well then?" Kiku asked quickly, changing the subject.

"Yeah, hold up, what was that about pictures—?"

"Alfred-kun you should probably start going home," Kiku continued. "I do not think he would be happy if you woke him."

"Yeah probably not," he said, tip-toeing toward the door. "So is that a good thing that he passed out or does that count as a fail for a date—" The moment he stepped out the door, he froze. He looked back over his shoulder at the door.

"…um, Alfred-kun?"

"You, uh, think it matters that I can't lock his door for him?" Alfred asked.

He could hear Kiku sigh away from the receiver. "I don't think so," he replied. "Why would that matter?"

"W-Well, I mean…what if a guy with a chainsaw comes in?"

There was a long awkward pause, before Kiku finally said, "What?"

"I mean, think about it," Alfred continued, stepping back into the apartment. "I'm a devil creature and could probably like break their necks with my hand or something, but Arthur's a human, him vs. a chainsaw I think we'd both know who'd win, right?"

"Alfred-kun, I do not think there is a chance of a man with a chainsaw getting into an apartment."

"Well…" Alfred glanced around. "…still I shouldn't just leave the door unlocked right? 'Cause robbers could sneak in too. Or…or y'think I should just sleep here?" He asked. "I mean, I'm not one hundred percent sure how to even get home from here in the dark anyway."

"I-I don't think that is something humans do on the first date," Kiku told him.

Alfred blinked, then blushed slightly. "What, no not like that, jeez man I'm not…no." He shook his head. "I just…I'll grab a warmer blanked from Artie's room and sleep on the couch."

Kiku didn't response, before saying quietly, "I suppose you could, (you don't usually listen to me anyway)…"

"Alright, see you tomorrow." He hung up, and slowly made his way through the apartment. It was strange how loud his feet sounded when everything else was silent. Each footstep sounded like the stomp of an elephant. Eventually he stepped into Arthur's room, flinching when the door hit the wall again.

Fortunately, Arthur didn't stir, so Alfred just walked over, looking down at the young man sound asleep in the bed. He knew Arthur hated being called cute, but damn it, he was cute. Especially with his hair all ruffled from sleeping and his face so peaceful-looking. And that little half smile on his face.

And damn his lips looked inviting…

Alfred stared at him for a minute, debating whether or not to kiss him before trying to steal one of the blankets. He glanced around quickly, but of course no one was there (especially not a chainsaw axe murderer). So slowly, he knelt down, and pressed a small kiss against his lips.

Arthur groaned slightly, stirring. Alfred immediately shot up, seeing a pair of sleepy, dazed green eyes blinking up at him. "…Alfred…?" He mumbled slowly. "Did…d'you want some…fish n' chips too…?" He yawned slightly.

Alfred laughed nervously. "Um, sure, yeah, um, fish and chips sounds good…"

"Oh good I'll go…make the batter…" And with that Arthur was once again completely out, his eyes falling back shut. Alfred found himself still laughing, heart pounding in his chest. He sat down on the bed shakily, then fell back against the pillow. It was a twin bed, but there seemed to be enough room since Arthur was curled up against the wall. Actually, the bed was extremely comfortable. Alfred glanced over toward Arthur, yawning, starting to feel how late it was. _Maybe he wouldn't mind, _he thought hazily, and resolved to shut his eyes, just for a second…

* * *

_This one time when I was camping I overheard a group of Americans and Canadians arguing about the temperature outside. One kid was arguing it was 70 degrees and another was convinced it was in the 20s. I just couldn't stop laughing the whole time._

_40° Celsius is 104° F in case anyone cared. And 40° F is about 4° C._

_Also I changed my Tumblr URL. I am now 4ragon. It is a long and complicated inside joke involving an illiterate Dragon switching the letter D with a 4._


	20. Halfway Between Dreaming And Waking

A pair of tired blue eyes opened slowly to find himself lying in an empty bed. It took him a few disorienting moments to register the empty space next to him, to actually realize that he was alone. To any normal person on any normal day, this may not have been very surprising.

But to someone as suave as Francis Bonnefoy, waking up in an empty bed came as a slight shock.

He also had a splitting headache, something that surprised Francis far less, and, as he sat up, he grimaced in pain. It took a lot to get Francis drunk, but he'd managed to pull it off the night before. At least he assumed so, he only could recall bits and pieces of it.

Although there were certain parts of yesterday that he thought he remembered with a bit too much clarity for his liking. Mostly involving the stupidest angel he had ever had the misfortune of…

…ah, something, his head really was throbbing too hard to think of anything. Although he usually prided himself on being able to think of as many insulting things about Arthur Kirkland as possible, he was much too hung over to care.

With a groan, he stood up, letting his long white wings stretch out behind him as he made his way over to the window and glanced blearily out. As nice as Heaven was, they really needed to hire someone new for decorating the place. Clouds were nice and all, but they should try to liven the place up. Maybe some red roses would help. Also, the brightness of everything wasn't helping his headache. (Le sigh)

With a shake of the head, he turned away. He wasn't sure about the time, but he supposed it didn't matter, because he really didn't feel in the mood to do any socializing. Or anything really. Not even flying, something that usually drove away all of his troubles. He sighed to himself, lying back on the bed. He could only imagine what he looked like, his hair tangled and his eyes rimmed red from the drinking.

What was he going to do about Arthur? The thought passed through his head for what may've been the millionth time, and he felt himself groan, which once again caused his head to throb. He knew what he was supposed to do, which would be either convince Arthur to stop talking to that human he was suddenly so fond of, or report him.

And as Arthur seemed so taken with his new beau…

Francis glanced over at some old photographs he'd held onto, the only one he'd ever managed to get of Arthur lying directly on top. It was from earth, with his two human friends Gilbert and Antonio posing in the background, and Arthur trying to squirm out of Francis's grip, scowling and flipping off the camera. He chuckled slightly, shaking his head.

If he told someone about Arthur becoming too attached to a human, he probably wouldn't be able to come back to Heaven. He would be left on earth, with no connections to Heaven, no help, not even any money. He would be stranded.

Of course, that seemed to be what he wanted anyway, so Francis would be doing him a favor.

With another bitter sigh, he rolled over. So what was he supposed to do…?

…

Arthur groaned slightly as he began stirring, stretching his arms and his wings. He paused slightly, realizing he was still wearing his shirt and his wings were unable to move. He started fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, rolling sideways, and snuggling his head sleepily into the warmth of Alfred's chest.

And then he froze, realizing he was lying on Alfred's chest.

There was a fairly good chance that Arthur's scream woke the entire apartment complex. At the very least, Alfred screaming just as loudly, shooting straight up and fumbling for the pillow. "Is th' axe murderer in here?" Alfred half-yelled, his eyes almost popping out of his head, holding a pillow up defensively.

Arthur stared at him, eyes wide. "Alfred, what are you…are you…_d-did you sleep here?_"

"…what…?" Alfred stared at him, blinking sleepily at his boyfriend. "…oh…oh yeah, um…yeah." He nodded, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. "'Cause—'cause what if there was an axe murderer in here or somethin'?"

Arthur almost punched him right then. "You—you slept _in my bed_ because you thought an axe murderer would break in," he repeated dumbly, his hands clenched into fists.

"Um…yeah," Alfred responded.

"_In. My. Bed._"

"Yeah."

…

…

_THWACK_

Alfred screamed again, tumbling backwards off of the bed and onto the floor. Arthur sat there, glaring daggers at him, ready to hit him with the pillow again. "Ow what the hell!" Alfred shouted from the floor.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT THE HELL, YOU ARE _IN MY BED_!" Arthur bellowed and swung the pillow at him again.

"Dude what—ow, stop hitting me," Alfred pulled himself back to his feet as Arthur whacked him a few more times with his pillow. "What's so wrong with sleeping here, I didn't even mean to sleep on the bed I just…sat down and I must've passed out I guess."

Arthur continued to glare at him. "That is no excuse—_why the hell are you getting back in?_"

Alfred had fallen back onto the bed, curling up into the warmth of the spot he had been sleeping in minutes earlier. "Dude, it's Saturday, and it's like six in the morning. I wanna go back to sleep…"He yawned, snuggling under the rumpled blankets.

Arthur hit him again, much more frantically. "No! Alfred, get the hell out of here!" His face had gone beet red once again. It really agitated him that Alfred could make him flustered so easily.

"You're gonna hafta make me," Alfred mumbled back, face buried in the pillow still lying on the bed.

Arthur groaned loudly, leaning back against the wall. If only he could use any sort of magic to blast him off. If only Angels could do something _other_ than bright, extremely conspicuous bursts of light. That would solve so many of his problems.

Instead, Arthur reached over and started trying to push him off. Unfortunately for him, Alfred was pretty heavy. With a groan, he gave up, rolling his eyes and climbing to his feet. As he started to slip off the bed, Alfred grabbed his hand. "Yo, where're y' going?" He asked him blearily.

Arthur paused, startled. "I was going to make toast," he said.

Alfred shook his head. "Dude, 'member when I said it's six in the morning?"

"…distinctly."

"Yeah, well…" Alfred sat up slightly, pulling Arthur onto the bed next to him (of course he didn't make that unmanly squeak though, must've been the bed), "…you should prob'ly go back to sleep too."

"W-Wha…Alfred let go of me!" He protested, as a pair of arms wrapped around him. "Alfred I-I am not—we aren't—I am not tired," he finished lamely.

Alfred frowned at him. "Dude, we're dating now, right? Can't we cuddle for a bit?"

"Alfred…" Arthur tried to glare at him, but somehow Alfred had started giving him puppy-eyes. His glasses had fallen off at some point in the night, too, and his mouth had formed that god-awful pout. Arthur tried to keep his face angry and stern, but found himself failing spectacularly while staring into those large blue eyes.

"…oh damn it, fine, whatever, I guess I can—"

"Alright, sweet." Alfred grinned, pulling him close and snuggling affectionately against his face. Arthur felt his breath catch, but Alfred, oblivious as always, just started sleepily telling him all about the weird dream he'd had, (in which Arthur got into a fist fight with a pigeon that only knew French), leaving Arthur frozen in place against his face.

A few more minutes of that, and Alfred had begun to slip out of consciousness again, his blue eyes only barely remaining open. Arthur watched him closely from the corner of his eye, trying to gage when it would be safe to get up again. Eventually, Alfred's eyes had shut, and he'd gone silent. Arthur grinned slightly, then tried to sit up, only to find that Alfred's grip had not loosened in the slightest.

Cursing under his breath, he began to squirm slightly, hopping to wriggle out of Alfred's grip, to no avail. Eventually, he just turned toward the boy, scowling at his sleeping face. "Alfred, let go of me," he demanded softly.

Alfred shook his head almost imperceptibly. "…no way you're like a teddy bear…"

Arthur paused, startled that he was actually still awake. "I-I am not a teddy bear."

"Uh huh…"

Arthur groaned slightly. He supposed he was stuck like this for a while. Well, at least he wouldn't light the apartment on fire trying to make his boyfriend…trying to make Alfred toast. That would be embarrassing to say the least.

He wriggled in Alfred's grip just enough to catch a glimpse of the clock hanging from the wall. Six forty-three in the morning. Usually he was up by now, eating some blackened toast and jam and drinking some freshly brewed tea. On Saturdays he usually didn't have that much to do, but he usually took a walk, or sat up on the roof and watched the sunrise.

He turned again, straining to look at Alfred's face. _Well, maybe sleeping in won't be so bad… _He thought to himself, then, with a resigned sigh, forced his eyes shut.

_He was standing by the window, as the rain pelted the glass. His wings were spread wide behind him, but they felt wrong, crooked. They felt wet and sticky. Why was that? He looked over his shoulder at them. His wings were a deep red, matted as if they were wet. Red? Why were they red? Why were they…bleeding?_

_There was someone nearby. Someone behind him. He turned. He couldn't see, but someone was there. Someone with glowing eyes. Red eyes, but there was blue near the pupils. Or maybe he was imagining it, and then it was gone, the eyes, the shadow, and there was a knife__…_

Arthur sat up abruptly.

He blinked a few times, his heart pounding in his chest so hard he could barely breathe. He sat silently blinking quickly. He looked around. The clock read ten sixteen. The bed was empty. He could smell toast. There was sunlight streaming through the nearby the window.

He blinked dazedly a few more times. His heart had begun to slow down. He reached up to rub his fingertips against his head.

Alfred suddenly opened the door. "Dude, time to get up!" He called happily, much more awake than he had been several hours earlier, his glasses back on his face. He paused, seeing Arthur sitting up in his bed. "Oh, wait, you're up. Um, sorry about making a mess in your kitchen then, I figured you wouldn't mind if I made you toast and stuff 'cause you were still asleep, you didn't have all that much breakfast food anyway." He paused, seeing Arthur's white face. "…Arthur, you good?"

Arthur sat there, slowly trying to piece together everything that had just left Alfred's mouth in his groggy mind. After a few seconds, he managed to say, "Fine. Fine, I am…fine."

Alfred had already seated himself next to Arthur, looking closely at his face. "You look like you just saw like a ghost or an axe murderer. You sure you're good."

Arthur sat there, looking up at Alfred. Already, he found that dream slipping away from his memory, only leaving that twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach. "I'm fine," he repeated with more confidence. "Wh…What did you say was for breakfast…?"

"Um, I mean, all I knew how to make was toast, so, y'know…toast." Alfred frowned at him. "You still look kinda off though. Oh, I could bring you some and you can eat in bed!"

"Alfred you really don't have to…" Alfred was already out the door before Arthur finished. "…and once again I'm just talking to myself." He sighed, leaning back against the wall, somehow feeling more exhausted than he had been when he first fell asleep. This was why he never slept in; he always would get a splitting headache when he woke up.

After a minute, Alfred dashed back in with a plate on top of some sort of tray he'd found (it was a blackened tray Arthur used to try to make scones). "Tah-dah!" He brought it down on Arthur's legs, causing him to grimace. "Breakfast in bed! Y'know, I think I already got this boyfriend stuff down pretty good."

Arthur felt himself smile faintly. "Yes, perfectly."

Alfred smiled at him, flopping down in the bed next to him. Arthur scowled slightly at that, turning to glare at him. "Alfred, this is a single bed," he told him. "It's not supposed to hold two people."

"Yeah, but it worked alright last night!"

Arthur flushed. "W-Wha…Alfred, don't…don't say it like that you idiot, it sounds…j-just shut up!"

Alfred sniggered. "It sounds what?" He asked, scooting closer to Arthur, who glared at him.

"I-It sounds…it sounds dirty, you idiot," he snapped back, getting redder by the second.

Alfred started laughing at him. "Does it?" He asked, scooting even closer, brushing against Arthur's side, which made him jump.

"A-Alfred, cut it out," he muttered. "I'm…trying to eat my toast." With that, he snatched his toast quickly, and started nibbling on the crust, eyes fixed forward and not on his boyfriend.

Alfred started laughing harder, and wrapped Arthur in a tight hug. "Pfft, dude you're so weird…" He paused, smile fading slightly. "But, um, you sure you're alright?"

"What?" Arthur glanced over at him, taking a second to remember what he meant. "Oh. Right, yes. Yes I'm fine." He shook his head, rubbing at his eyes with the palm of his hand.

Alfred looked closely at him, eyes narrowed in mock-suspicion. "Alright," he said slowly. After a moment, he leaned over and sneakily (or at least he thought so) pressing his hand against his boyfriend's forehead. Arthur rolled his eyes, then allowed himself to shut his eyes, sighing softly. Admittedly, the hand felt nice. He yawned slightly, hoping that Alfred wasn't looking closely enough at him to see his small smile.

Of course, once he cracked his eye back open, he could see Alfred had noticed, a lopsided grin spread across his face. "Hey, Arthur."

"What is it, Alfred?" He asked, forcing his dumb smile off his face and looking over.

Alfred fidgeted slightly, looking up at him. He suddenly had become nervous, which made Arthur nervous as well. "Um…so Arthur…do you…wanna go out with me?"

Arthur blinked. "…I don't know how much more 'out' we can be, to tell you the truth Alfre—"

"No no I mean…" Alfred scratched the back of his neck. "Well, first time I asked you out you said maybe, right? So, like…it's not exactly official, y'know, us dating, is it, and…" He paused, thinking. "Is this something I need a ring for?" He asked.

"What? No that's only for marriage." Arthur shook his head. "Alfred, I don't know if—"

"That's not a 'yes' or a 'no', Arthur," Alfred interrupted.

Arthur blinked. "What? Alfred I don't—"

"Yes, or no," Alfred repeated, fixing him with a stare. "It's just one word, dude. You can do it."

"Alf…" Arthur trailed of before he could even begin. After sighing softly and telling himself under his breath that this was something he was going to regret, he looked up and said, "Fine."

Alfred paused. "Fine what?" He asked blankly, not expecting such a simple answer.

Arthur looked pointedly at him. "What do you mean 'fine what'? Fine, sure, let's go out! 'Officially'!"

Alfred's face seemed to light up, his wide blue eyes staring into Arthur's. "Seriously?"

"No obviously I'm lying and the fact that we are lying together in a bed means absolutely nothing."

There was a quick pause as Alfred tried to decipher the sarcasm. Then he was on his knees, causing the bed to bounce slightly, eyes still wide. "Arthur?"

"…yes?" Arthur questioned weakly.

"…am I allowed to kiss you then?"

Arthur almost snapped something else sarcastic, but bit his lip, realizing that A) Alfred certainly wouldn't get it within the first five seconds, and B) for some reason, he found himself simply wanting to say yes. So finally, he compromised, saying, "Go ahead. I won't stop you."

Alfred grinned, then wrapped his arms around Arthur's midsection, pulling him up, and giving him a long, clumsy, happy kiss that made Arthur's heart leap into his throat. Feeling it would be…rude not to reciprocate, he kissed him back, feeling daring enough to wrap his own arms around Alfred's more muscular frame, even tangling his fingers into Alfred's hair. He felt lighter than air, like in that moment he could die happy, that he could stay there forever, kissing Alfred forever, the thought of Heaven never to cross his mind again.

In the very back of his mind, he knew it couldn't last. But he could ignore that…

* * *

_Ominous, huh?_

_Sometimes when I multitask I write random words someone nearby is saying. If I ever write the word 'plane' instead of 'pillow', feel free to let me know._

_Whoa I just realized this is the longest fan fic I've ever written. Sweet. You would not believe how unbelievably happy that makes me. Also, cameo appearance from Francis._


	21. Carefree

Weeks had gone by. Alfred had trouble counting just how many, though, because it all seemed to rush past in the blink of an eye. Because most of that time was spent with Arthur Kirkland and all of life seemed perfect.

He knew it wasn't love, or that Kiku kept insisting it wasn't, but the weightlessness in his stomach and the odd skipping of his heart whenever Arthur gave him that begrudging smile just all felt so real. So, maybe it was fake, but he didn't care. He was beyond caring.

Today, he was running around, gathering up his school-stuff, ready for another day of whatever. He and Arthur still had the same routine, with the addition of occasionally holding hands or kissing (he said occasionally because when there were people around Arthur would get extremely flustered).

He glanced at the clock, to see he still had ten minutes before he had to go, then sat down on the couch, trying to remember if he'd done all of his homework. The TV in front of him was blaring, owing to the fact that the silent apartment kind of freaked him out a little bit. Currently, it was on the news, something Kiku had insisted on.

"Alfred-kun, you need to pay more attention to your surroundings," he had insisted only a few days ago. Alfred was already starting to get annoyed by his concerned quips every time they talked. "It has been months since you even tried to look for this angel. You are forgetting why you are on Earth, and demons here might be getting angry…"

"Relax, Kiku," he'd said back for the millionth time. "I'm keeping an eye out." This wasn't true, of course; he'd barely even thought of the angel since he and Arthur had started going out. In fact, he found himself more and more finding excuses why not to look for the angel. He knew that once he found the angel, he'd probably leave. And sure, he could sneak back to earth any time, but as long as he had a real reason to stay, no one would ask too many questions.

He sighed and let himself half watch the TV screen, listening to them drone on about politics and the flu and something about some famous singer. Eventually it got to the bit about the weather, and Alfred found himself listening to the local weather lady as she talked. "There's a cold front heading up in a few days. We're going to see a sharp drop in temperature…"

Alfred yawned as the weekly forecast was displayed onscreen. Tonight, which was Thursday, and the night after were clear, slightly above normal in temperature, and then Saturday seemed to have a heavy rain, then snow as the temperature dropped dramatically.

He frowned at all the clouds on the TV, letting out a small, disappointed sigh. The cold was certainly more awful than he'd imagined from all the stories in hell, but even more than that, the clouds meant he wouldn't get the chance to see the stars. He wasn't sure why, but the idea of all those tiny lights in the sky still intrigued him, even though he still hadn't gotten the chance to see any. Arthur told him he'd probably not see any actual stars due to all the light pollution, but Alfred had no idea what that meant.

He yawned again, glancing back up toward the clock. Then, realizing he should've left several minutes ago, he groaned, jumped to his feet and dashed out the door, yanking his backpack off the floor as he went, remembering at the last second to both turn off the TV and grab his phone from a small wooden table.

His large brown jacket did little to insulate him from the numbing cold outside. He breathed into his hands as he ran down the street to the bus stop, cursing slightly under his breath. _Above average temperatures my ass,_ he thought savagely, slowing down at the bench and dancing on his feet, trying to get warm. He looked up at the sky, but it was a dark purple, and he knew the sun wouldn't be up for a while. At least there weren't clouds.

Fortunately, the bus showed up quickly, and fifteen minutes later he was at the school, running up the stairs and though the doors. He slowed down once inside, relieved at the warmth, and took his time getting his things from his locker and setting off toward the study hall.

He was easily able to spot the messy straw hair at the table near the middle of the study hall. He grinned and tiptoed closer, getting a few odd looks from some of the other students. Quietly, he crept up behind Arthur, glancing over his boyfriend's boney shoulder. He could see he'd been reading something. Alfred couldn't see the cover, but he had an odd suspicion that it was Harry Potter.

Grinning widely, Alfred leaned closer, until he was an inch away from Arthur's ear. Then, he said, "Boo."

Arthur jumped, and Alfred quickly leaned back, narrowly avoiding getting hit in the face by the back of Arthur's head (he'd learned to do that after the first three times). Arthur swung around, teeth gritted. "Alfred, I swear to god," he snapped, glaring weakly at him.

Alfred gave him a cheeky grin. "Come on, man, lighten up." He sat down next to him, giving his a one armed hug. Arthur shifted slightly, elbowing his arms almost immediately. Alfred rolled his eyes, letting go. Arthur was always so touchy about…well, being touched. Mostly his back. Alfred really couldn't figure that out, but hey, he wasn't complaining all that much.

He sat down, still laughing at Arthur's glaring face. They chatted for awhile, and Alfred would wave as people he knew walked by, finding their seats. He'd been surprised how many humans he'd come to know, even kind of like. There was Toris, who helped Alfred with his math homework, and Ivan, who, even though he was probably still _terrified_ of Alfred, was still interesting to sit next to while dissecting frogs in biology. There were Gilbert and Antonio, who didn't get to talk to them as much because they were currently serving a detention. There was even Mark (or Mike?), who everyone seemed to think looked just like Alfred. For some reason he looked over his shoulder every time Alfred waved at him, as if trying to figure out whom he was waving to.

Arthur just rolled his eyes as Alfred greeted everyone. "Well, aren't you Mr. Popular," he said, resting his chin on his hand.

Alfred looked over, then grinned ear to ear. "I guess I better start beating up some foreign kids, huh?" He asked, hooking his arm around Arthur's neck and pulling him closer, and even managed to kiss the top of his head.

Arthur yelped, immediately flailing his arms to get out of Alfred's grip. "A-Alfred, cut it out!"

"What? Sorry man, I can't understand your accent."

Arthur eventually managed to pull Alfred's arm off of him, scowling and rubbing his neck. "You are a bloody moron," he muttered.

"Yeah, I know~!" Alfred smiled, and Arthur rolled his eyes, turning back to his book (it was the blue Harry Potter book). Alfred watched him as he flipped another page. It was funny how little Arthur had changed since they'd first met. Sure, he was much more tolerant of Alfred's antics, and talked a little more, but he still was that same scowling boy that he'd first seen half asleep in the front office.

Arthur hadn't really made any other friends either, Alfred noticed, watching Arthur fixing the paper cover of the hardback book. He always wondered what Arthur did in the classes they didn't share. Did he just not talk? He wondered if he could help him out.

He thought about it for a minute, as they both sat in silence. Then, the best idea ever crossed his mind. "Hey Artie," he started.

Arthur glanced up. "Have I mentioned I'm not fond of that nickname?" He asked dryly.

Alfred grinned. "Come on dude, I already said you could call me 'Al' if you want."

"That had nothing to do with my distain for the name 'Artie'," he replied. Then he smirked. "Although, you know, I could call you 'Fred'."

Alfred paused, grimacing. "Yeah okay, that might be pushing it…" He shrugged. "Listen, you wanna join a club with me?"

Arthur stared blankly at him for a moment. Then he replied, "Why, are you planning on making an Alfred Fan Club? I'm sure Ivan would be all for joining."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Uh…what? No, no I mean like, wanna find something fun we could do together? Like a club?"

Arthur shrugged. "I'm fine with our normal hanging out," he decided, but Alfred shook his head.

"Come on, Arthur, we could find something fun to do! Isn't there a club you've always wanted to do? Like a hobby?"

Arthur thought for a second. "I used to be in the magic club," he said.

Alfred paused, then snorted slightly. "There's a magic club?" He asked incredulously. "What the hell would you do in that?"

Arthur glared at him. "Shut up. It was fun for a while. And it's not around anymore, there wasn't enough interest besides me and that one Romanian kid I think?"

"Well…" Alfred paused, trying to think of a different activity. "Isn't there a…hmm…well what else is there to do?"

Arthur shrugged. "Francis used to be president of the cooking club, or something—"

"U-Uh, you know what that one sounds boring," Alfred said quickly, the thought of Arthur in a cooking club making his stomach churn.

Arthur scowled. "Relax, they've already made it clear they don't want me there," he snapped. "Let me think…hang on…" he stopped, then reached into his backpack, feeling around the bottom, finally pulling out a dirty paper booklet that looked like it'd been in his backpack for years. Alfred eyed it, and Arthur said, "I keep forgetting to throw this out…it's that thing they pass out at the beginning of the year, there should be a list of clubs in it."

Alfred perked up, then reached out and took it, flipping it open. "Cool! We have a lot of clubs, huh? Let's see…there's a chess club."

"Do you even know how to play chess?" Arthur snapped. "Besides, I heard they're competitive…"

Alfred sighed, flipping a few more pages. "Just reading out loud, calm down…there's an outdoors club!"

Arthur shook his head. "As much as I enjoy camping out in the mud…"

Alfred glared at him. "How about the fencing club?"

"…We have that?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Fine, you know what, you look for one!"

Arthur sighed, realizing Alfred wasn't going to drop the subject, and grabbed the booklet. He opened it, scanning each of the clubs. "…there's always the sewing club," he said after a second.

Alfred stared at him. "Dude. No."

Arthur sighed, looking back down. "The book club could be fun."

"Dude, something we could do together. That wouldn't bore me to death." He looked over Arthur's shoulder as he scowled at him. "Hey, maybe we could join the band."

Arthur groaned. "Well, firstly, I don't play an instrument. And I really don't want to get beat up more than I normally do."

Alfred elbowed him. "Dude, they don't get beat up that much, do they?"

"Alfred, have you ever been hit with a tuba?"

Alfred blinked. "…no?"

"We are not joining the band."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, but decided not to comment. He looked back over at the list of clubs, trying to think of something interesting. Then, out of nowhere, an idea crossed his mind. "Arthur, is there an astronomy club?" He asked suddenly.

Arthur looked up, confused. "What?"

Alfred paused, realizing how stupid that sounded. "Um…never mind, it's a dumb question," he amended quickly, rubbing his arm. "Uh, so what other clubs are there?"

Arthur had turned toward him. "I didn't realize you were into astronomy," he said curiously, which caused Alfred to start squirming in his seat.

"I-I mean, not really," he said quickly. "I just…kind of wanna see…the stars…"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Stars," he repeated. "Why are you so interested in the stars? I mean, you'd probably get a much better view of them from your old house, wouldn't you?"

"…see, it's dumb," he mumbled.

Arthur frowned, looking back down at the clubs. "I don't think we have an astronomy club anyway," he said calmly. "And if we did it would probably be a lot more math than you'd like."

"Yeah, I know, I just said it was dumb," Alfred snapped.

Arthur scrutinized him a moment, much to Alfred's discomfort. Alfred folded his arms, ignoring Arthur, instead focusing his eyes toward the ceiling. Then, Arthur started snickering, shaking his head. "For goodness sake, you are such a child," he said.

Alfred froze, then scowled at him. "Dude, shut up."

Arthur thought about it. "Well, you know, I have the key to the roof of my apartment."

Alfred blinked. "Why the hell do you have that?" He asked.

Arthur immediately shrugged. "Found it a few years ago," he told him. "Now I just sort of go there once a day to…well, to clear my head. But," he paused a second, looking at Alfred, "if you really wanted to try stargazing in a city, why not use a rooftop?"

Alfred stared openmouthed for a moment. "…really?" He asked. "You're inviting me to sit on your roof and look at the stars with you and stuff, right?"

Arthur gave him an amused smile. "Eh, why not? Although I highly doubt we'll see a thing unless the entire city has a blackout—"

Alfred cut him off with a hug strong enough to knock the wind out of him. "Dude you're the best~!"

"Ack!" Arthur yelped, trying to pry Alfred off of him. "A-Alfred cut it…cut it out I…can't…_breathe_…"

"Dude, I love ya'!" Alfred pecked him on the cheek, and let go. Arthur toppled sideways out of his seat, gasping for air, his face somehow managing to turn an odd shade of purple. (That's what happens when you mix red and blue, kids!) "Y-You arse," he managed to wheeze angrily.

"Come on, Artie, I'm too cute for you to stay mad at!" Alfred teased.

"Shut up," he snapped, climbing back up. "And cute is not the right word, try replacing it with 'insufferable'."

"Or maybe 'hot'. I think hot works pretty well. Or 'sexy'."

"You are none of those things."

Alfred pouted. "Come on, dude, don't be mean."

Suddenly, Arthur started laughing, and then Alfred found himself joining in. The two of them laughed at each other for most of the class, not a care in the world. Because what was there to worry about?

* * *

_I did not sleep last night for some reason, but managed to finish this thing! Yay!_

_No one at my high school realized that we had a fencing club. I was president. And some of the band kids were kind of scary. Most of them could probably beat me up. But most of them were my friends, so fortunately I have not been shoved into a locker._


	22. StarLight StarBright

The next afternoon, Arthur was standing alone on the roof of his apartment, wings folded forward to shield himself from the cold. He would never understand Alfred's weird obsession with the stars, not in a million years. He folded his arms together. Alfred would be arriving much later, but there was no sense in just sitting by the door like a lost puppy. Not that he'd been doing that earlier. No, certainly not.

He glanced around the rooftop. He'd grabbed a few blankets for the…well, he could hardly call it a date, but for whatever the hell they were doing on a freezing building at night. He'd brought a small basket of food up too, in case Alfred wanted a snack. Not that Alfred ever appreciated his cooking, but it couldn't hurt.

He sighed, sitting down on the edge of the roof. It felt odd, preparing his secret spot for someone else. His stomach had twisted itself into knots, and he kicked his feet restlessly. He hoped Alfred would like it. At least, he hoped he wouldn't get the usual 'You're such a nerd' comment. He did love Alfred, but sometimes the teasing grated on his nerves.

He yawned, and he saw some mist rise from his mouth. It was still above normal temperatures, but he wished they could've chosen to do this on a warmer night.

Another yawn. He rubbed his arms unhappily, checking his watch. Alfred had said he would come right before sundown, which left Arthur over an hour before he'd show up.

He breathed into his hands, hoping to get feeling back into his numb digits. Usually he'd be flying by now, to warm himself up. He could almost imagine that wonderful weightless feeling in his stomach if he shut his eyes. He wouldn't need to imagine it if he just…

…but he really had so many more things to get ready first. He still hadn't gotten any chips, Alfred always loved those, and he had been hoping to find a movie they could watch afterword, he wouldn't mind Alfred staying the night again if they happened to stay up too late, and…

…and…

He sighed, shivering more, glancing up at the inviting sky. Then, with a groan and a shrug, he turned toward the old coat he'd brought up with him. He pulled it on, tugging it over his shoulders. His wings stretched out behind him, through the holes in the back. As a precaution, he dashed over to the door and tugged on the handle a few times, double checking that he'd firmly locked it behind him. Then, flipping the hood over his head, he took off.

He grinned as he sped into the air. He'd done it a million times. More than a million. The sky stretched on, the city stretched on below him. With his coat, it would be impossible to distinguish him from a large bird once he was far enough off the ground, and he managed to reach that height fairly quickly.

He soared through the air, shutting his eyes, even allowing himself to do a few loop-the-loops. Up in the air, he felt free as a bird (pun completely intended). It was something every angel loved, and as natural as breathing.

He looked up at the clouds he was almost skimming. He didn't understand why he didn't freeze every time he came here, but he supposed he shouldn't care. He glanced down at his watch. He would have maybe a half an hour before he should land and continue getting ready. Until then, he wouldn't mind not having a care in the world…

…

Alfred F. Jones knocked on the door. He'd gotten some flowers, real ones, as a thank you for inviting him over, as a thank you for the stars and, well, every else. He knew he bothered Arthur more than he should, but that just went to show how great he was for putting up with it.

He knocked on the door again, frowning slightly. "Yo dude? Arthur? You home?" He frowned, then pressed his ear against the door, listening for any sign of movement. He couldn't hear a thing.

With a sigh, he glanced around the hallway. Arthur didn't seem to be the forgetful one out of the pair, but that didn't account for much, he could often be just as spacey. Although they _had_ talked about their plans during school earlier…

Alfred scowled, trying to think. Where would Arthur have gone? He glanced at his watch. He'd arrived early to surprise Arthur (and because his own place was boring as Hell), but he guess maybe he should've called before doing that…

He wondered where Arthur was. He didn't hear anything from the apartment, but he guessed Arthur could've been taking a shower. Or he could've been burning something in the kitchen. Or maybe he'd gone out to do something, although Alfred had no idea what.

He debated asking that neighbor he'd met the other day, but he really disliked talking to him. He could wait out here for Arthur, but that would be mind-numbingly boring. He fixed his glower toward the ceiling. Then, the best idea he'd ever had crossed his mind:

He should sneak up to the roof and surprise Arthur.

He grinned at his genius, then turned and dashed toward the stairs, clutching tightly the flowers he'd bought, even though a few petals fell to the floor. He could see Arthur's surprised face in his head. God he would be so freaked out if Alfred managed to beat him there. Laughing, he took the steps two at a time, until he reached the large, metal door to the roof. Up here, he could see his breath, and muttered a few curses as he shoved the flowers into one hand and grabbed the door handle.

Locked.

Alfred froze, then swore even louder. Of course it would be locked, why wouldn't it? Uh, why was he such an idiot?

He sighed, jiggling the handle some more, trying to pull it hard enough to loosen it, but nothing worked. He bent down, inspecting the keyhole. It was large. If he squinted, he could almost see through it. Not that there should be much on the other side, but still…

He glared angrily at the door. Then, he knelt down, and pressed the palm of his hand against the keyhole. He shut his eyes, and took a deep breath.

Then a moment later, he heard a click.

Grinning triumphantly, he tugged on the handle and pulled the door open. It protested loudly against the rusted hinges, but Alfred slipped through quickly and shut it behind him, looking around. It seemed like Arthur had been there earlier. There were blankets, and a small basket full of what Alfred took to be Arthur's cooking. Alfred laughed, imagining the two of them actually having a picnic on the roof. Arthur could be so cute sometimes.

He strode over and put the flowers next to the basket, grinning to himself. Perfect! He looked around the rooftop, trying to figure out what to do next. If he was going to surprise Arthur, he guessed he could hide behind the little outcrop where the door was. Then jump out and scare the shit out of his boyfriend. He laughed, then jogged over, ducking down and sitting against the wall.

He felt his phone vibrate and tugged it out of his pocket, still grinning, and answered. "Yo Kiku, I'm totally gonna freak the shit outta Artie," he whispered, peaking around the wall to double check that Arthur hadn't shown up yet.

"…is that really the best idea, Alfred-kun? I think Arthur-kun might finally kill you," Kiku told him slowly.

Alfred sniggered, settling back against the wall. "Heheh, yeah, but it's so gonna be worth it."

"Whatever you say Alfred-kun…"

Alfred laughed some more, looking up toward a bird flying high in the air. He hoped Arthur would show up soon. He really couldn't wait to freak him out. And watch the stars too. He couldn't wait for sunset, even though Arthur kept insisting that he wouldn't see anything. He wondered if Artie would be up for cuddling. It would keep them both warm, right? It was a perfect idea! Man he was just full of those today.

"…Alfred-kun?"

Alfred jumped slightly, forgetting he'd been on the phone. "Yeah man?" He responded.

Kiku paused momentarily. Then he sighed slightly. "Never mind," he said quietly. "I hope you have fun."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, and opened his mouth to ask what Kiku was thinking about. But before he could even start, he heard a loud thud. He jumped slightly, looking around. Then he grinned, giving Kiku a thumbs up to see, then shut the phone, creeping forward.

…

Arthur yawned, rubbing his eye with one hand and stretching with the other. Flying always worked well at cheering him up. Even when his thoughts wandered to thoughts of that stupid frog Francis, he couldn't possibly feel bad when his head was in the clouds. (Although he was vaguely curious as to what the frog was doing, usually he apologized by now.)

The sun was starting to set, and the sky was starting to get the faintest twinge of pink. Arthur tugged of his coat started looking around for his sweatshirt, finding it on the ground. He'd brought it up earlier because it didn't have holes in the back for his wings, so he could put it on for the date. He yawned again and slipped his arms in. He was about to tug it over his head when something caught his eye.

Flowers.

He froze in place, his arms still only halfway into the sleeves. There were flowers lying on a blanket. _When did I buy flowers?_ He wondered, staring in confusion. He racked his brain quickly. He was sure those hadn't been there before. So when did they get there? The door was locked; no one could've put it there.

Arthur stood there, and suddenly, the temperature dropped. He stiffened. Something wasn't right. He didn't move, suddenly fearful of even taking a breath, of breathing. Slowly, eyes wide, he turned around.

Alfred was standing stiffly a few feet away, his blue eyes showing nothing but horror.

Arthur stared back, not moving. He felt the icy wind practically blowing through his very bones, ruffling the feathers of his wings. Suddenly he felt more exposed than he ever had in his life. He shrunk back, opened his mouth to speak, but there was no more air in his lungs, they were being crushed. Neither of them moved. Finally, Arthur managed to say, "A-Alfred…"

"No." Alfred stepped back, his chest starting to rise and fall quickly, shaking his head slightly. "No no no…"

"A-Alfred I can explain," Arthur stammered quickly, stepping forward, and Alfred reeled backward.

"No no no this isn't…this isn't right y-you can't…" Alfred backed into the wall, hyperventilating. "No…no no no no."

"Alfred, A-Alfred calm down," Arthur told him frantically, trying to think, but nothing came to mind. "Alfred, Alfred please just let me explain—"

"No this is not right this is _not right_," Alfred was shaking his head hysterically, his eyes never leaving Arthur's face.

"Alfred, I'm an Angel."

Alfred froze, and Arthur wasn't sure if that was a good sign, but he found the words pouring out of his mouth anyway, he had to do something, he had to tell Alfred, he had to make him stay. "Alfred I'm an Angel. I…I-I was sent to earth to…I was banished here to protect earth and…and Alfred please you have to understand I…I mean I'm still me…" He faltered, still trying to rack his brain for something to say, something to get rid of Alfred's horror-struck face, something, anything.

"Alfred I-I—I love you."

Alfred didn't move. And then he turned, grabbing the handle on the door, and within seconds he was gone, sprinting down the stairs and out of sight.

Arthur stared at the doorway, at the rusty doorway hanging open, trying to process what just happened, trying to understand, trying to breathe. Cold numbness had taken hold of his body and didn't let go until the sun sank beneath the horizon.

And then, all too soon, it wore off.

…

He wasn't sure where he was. He kept running, kept running, eyes still wide, heart still pounding, vision blurring, but he kept running he had to keep running.

His body was shaking uncontrollably. It was going to break. It was going to rip apart. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't think. He couldn't—

Suddenly his foot caught on something. He yelped and tumbled forward, and smashed face first into the dirt, and he lay there, breathing in and out and shaking. He tried to calm down. If he didn't, his human body would rip apart, he had to calm down.

He looked up slowly, taking deep gulps of air. He vaguely recognized where he was. He was lying in a small, deserted park. He was lying on a small dirt path, with grass and flowers on either side of him, along with a small brook. There were some trees nearby, tall and swaying gently in the wind. Further past the trees he could make out the rest of the sprawling cityscape.

This was where he'd first appeared. This was where he'd first arrived on earth. He sat up, not quite seeing the scenery or the darkening sky.

There was a buzzing. Alfred paused, trying to think why he recognized that sound. Then, he remembered. And he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and shakily pressed the speak button and drawing it up to his ear.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them so much as dared to breathe. And then Alfred whispered, "Kiku, it's him…"

"…h-hai," Kiku murmured softly.

"Kiku it's him," Alfred repeated.

"Alfred-kun—"

"_Kiku it's him_," Alfred was shouting now. "It's him it was him oh _shit_."

"Alfred-kun, calm down—"

"**SHUT THE FUCK UP DO NOT TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!**" Alfred screamed.

And suddenly, there was an ear-splitting crash, and the ground buckled slightly, and then suddenly every single light seemed to go out and Alfred cringed, gritting his teeth, feeling the sharp pain of overexertion in his chest, and the faintest taste of metallic blood in his mouth.

He sat there in the dirt, trying to get his breath back, and Kiku whispered, "Alfred-kun, stop."

"I can't do it, Kiku," Alfred said back. "I can't do it. I can't kill him."

"Alfred-kun if you don't then they'll kill you," Kiku told him. "The other demons want him dead, and they'll kill you too."

"I can't do it, Kiku."

"Alfred-kun, you have to."

Alfred sat there. And he hung up the phone, shutting it and tucking it back into his pocket. He reached into his jacket, and drew out the dagger. He hadn't looked at it in months. It hadn't mattered in months. But it mattered now, deadly black and gleaming in the soft starlight.

…in the starlight…

Alfred looked up. The lights were out. The lights were out, and the blackening dusk was littered with stars. Only faintly, and not nearly as many as Alfred had dreamed of, but there they were, stretching out across the sky until they disappeared at the light-polluted edges. Stars, just like he'd dreamed about.

Alfred stared at them. And then he let loose a scream.

* * *

_Hey guys. Um... Sorry about the ending. Hope you all had a nice Valentine's Day._


	23. Liar

The apartment was almost empty. He'd gotten rid of everything he didn't need, throwing almost everything out in the large garbage bin behind him. Because he wouldn't need any of it anymore, would he?

He'd even auctioned most of his furniture off on EBay and Craig's List in the last week. He made a couple-hundred dollars, and stowed them all in his wallet, tucking it into a pocket inside his jacket.

His backpack was still lying on the floor. He wasn't sure why he hadn't tossed it. He had tossed out his homework, and his textbooks and most of his notebooks. He still had a couple of pairs of pants and shirts, and a bag of potato chips too.

And his copy of Romeo and Juliet.

Alfred stood silently by his door, the book still in his hands. He stared blankly down at it, leafing through the pages. Why the hell did he still have this, he wondered. He hated this book. He hated the story. He hated everything this book had ever stood for. Love at first sight was bullshit. _Love_ was bullshit. _Everything _was bullshit.

He wanted to burn it. He looked toward the kitchen, wondering if he could burn it with the gas stove. He was ready to do it, but his feet refused to move. He flipped through it again.

He'd been supposed to write notes. Mark up the text and all that. Arthur had gone through it for him, circling important lines, trying to prompt him to figure out what sort of motif it related too, or theme, or just to point out how great Shakespeare was. God Artie was so…

…

…

…

Alfred threw the book as hard as he could into the wall.

He stood silently, and buried his head in his hands, leaning against the wall. But he didn't really…feel anything, just an odd numbness in his chest. And he also felt the dagger pressed against his side.

He took a deep breath, and straightened up. He knew what he had to do…

…

Arthur sat in silence at his empty table, his head in his arms. He could hear the murmur of people in the study hall around him. He knew some of those conversations were about him. He didn't care. He hated them all anyway.

Alfred's chair was lying on its side. He wasn't sure why. He vaguely recalled kicking it as hard as he could, but it all seemed blurred in his mind. It must've hurt.

He felt sick to his stomach. Alfred hadn't shown up at school for days. He wouldn't answer his phone or his door. Arthur shut his eyes angrily, gritting his teeth. Francis was right then. It would never work. Arthur was too much of a freak for it to work. Arthur had never hated his wings before, but at this moment, there was nothing he hated more.

He heard people sit down at his table, but he didn't look up. They stayed silent for a while, until someone asked, "Is Alfred sick or something?"

Arthur didn't answer for a minute, then managed to shake his head without looking up.

"Uh…" He could imagine Antonio's confused look without needing to see it. "Well, um, is he on vacation…?"

"I'm going to count to three," Arthur mumbled, only barely audible. "When I'm done, you two are going to be gone."

"Or what?" Gilbert asked, probably rolling his eyes.

Arthur glared up. "Or else I will grab you by your throat and _squeeze_."

Gilbert and Antonio looked at each other, looking concerned. "Come on, Eyebrows, everyone goes through a bad breakup—"

"Shut _up_, you brainless idiots, you don't know _anything_ about my life!"

Gilbert scowled at his response. "Hey, we're just trying to—"

"Well _stop_ trying. I don't want to hear _shit_ from you, alright? I just want to…sit here and hate myself in peace," he finished, plopping his head back into his arms.

Gilbert sighed loudly. "Stop being so melodramatic you little dummkopf," he said. "The two of you will probably be back together in a week."

Arthur gave a tired glance up. "Right," he mumbled sarcastically.

Antonio nodded in agreement, once again not picking up on the sarcasm. "Sí, I mean, he likes you a lot for some reason! I'm sure he will forgive you for whatever it is you did."

Arthur sighed softly, rubbing his temples. "Why are you two even talking to me? I was under the impression that you didn't particularly like me."

"Eh, we all drew straws," Gilbert said with a shrug, motioning toward his table.

Arthur blinked and turned. Immediately, almost a dozen faces turned away, all pretending like they'd been occupied with something else (except Feliciano, who just looked around at the others in confusion). All the people Alfred had become friends with, all the people the two of them had chatted with. Even people like Ludwig and…Mort or whatever that kid's name was. And was that Toris?

Arthur frowned, confused. "…Why on earth would _they_ care?" He asked.

"Well, I mean, we don't like you, but watching you cry like a little girl is no fun either!" Antonio told him.

Arthur glared coldly at him. "Go."

The both of them rolled their eyes, then stood up, making their way back to the other table. Arthur glared as they walked, then finally put his face back into his hands. He sighed deeply, shutting his eyes tightly.

He went through the rest of the day in the same dazed stupor, not so much as looking at anyone. By the time he walked into his apartment, he practically collapsed onto his couch. His wings flopped out next to him, and he scowled, hating the appendages. Why did Alfred have to freak out? Why couldn't he have just…why couldn't he have…said he loved him back?

Arthur shut his eyes. Maybe a nap would help take his mind off of things…

…

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_

Arthur flinched, then sat up slightly. It had gotten darker, and there was rain pounding on the window. He sighed, guessing that it had warmed enough to make some freezing rain. Another knock on the door. Arthur groaned. "No one's home!" He called, burying his face back into the pillow.

Another loud pounding on the door. If whoever was out there kept up, they'd probably break down the door. Arthur groaned again, then slowly started clambering to his feet. "Fine, I'm coming!" He shouted, pulling on his coat again, over his wings. He strode to the door and pulled it open a crack, glaring out.

Then he froze. Then, quickly, he yanked the door open. "A-Alfred?" He stammered, eyes wide.

Alfred didn't move, or say anything, just stood outside the room staring at the floor. After a moment, he said in a half-whisper, "Hey, Arthur."

"A-Alfred what are…where have you…?" Arthur stopped, then shook his head and stepped back, grabbing Alfred's arm and pulling him inside. Alfred kicked the door closed behind him. Arthur never stopped staring at him, his chest pounding. He half wanted to throw himself into Alfred's arms and apologize, kiss him maybe. But he really wasn't that kind of guy.

…well, maybe he could at least try the second part.

"L-Listen, Alfred, I am…I am very sorry," he said quickly.

There was an expectant pause, but Alfred didn't respond. He didn't even look like he'd been listening. Arthur frowned, feeling his stomach twisting into a knot again. "A-Alfred?" He questioned, trying to look at his face. Those blue eyes looked away, focusing on the floor. "Alfred…? Alfred listen, I'm sorry, I…I'm sorry I scared you and…a-and that I lied…I-I guess, and—"

"I'm sorry too."

Arthur paused, looking closely. Alfred's voice was hoarse. Something didn't seem right. "…Alfred—?"

_Click_

Arthur jumped. He spun around, looking toward the door. Did it just lock? Frowning, he moved closer. "Did you hear that?" He asked in confusion, looking around at the doorway, his eyes catching the small mirror hanging on the wall.

He caught a glimpse of a knife.

He reacted on instinct. He dove sideways, against the wall, suddenly feeling a sharp pain in his arm. He stumbled sideways a few steps, whipping around.

Alfred was staring back, the knife held so tightly in his hand that his knuckles had turned white. It was a long, black dagger. A demon's dagger. The tip had nicked his arm. Arthur stared at him in shock. "…Alfred, what…?"

"I-I'm sorry, Arthur," he whispered.

"Alfred what is this," Arthur asked frantically.

"I'm sorry," he said again. Then he whipped the knife at his throat.

Arthur leapt sideways again, his mind reeling, his mouth open but no words, no screams coming out. No, no that couldn't… "Alfred what the hell—?"

"I-I have a confession too, Arthur," Alfred said, looking up, and his eyes had turned a deep blood red.

Arthur stared back, frozen in place, but then, he realized that the shadows at his feet were moving, almost grabbing at his feet, and he kicked at them, reeling back and almost tripping over his backpack. "W-Wha…?"

Alfred let out a small, almost hysteric laugh. "Y-Yeah, I'm, uh…I'm a demon," he said with a strained smile. "I'm here to…I'm here to kill you. I was sent here to hunt you down and kill you 'n stuff."

Arthur stared back at the boy he loved, shaking his head weakly. ""No…No, no that's not possible, you can't be…you can't…" He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. This couldn't be possible.

Alfred's grip on the knife was so tight his knuckled had turned white. "Sorry, Arthur," he whispered again. And then, he lunged forward.

Arthur almost screamed, and then he ducked down. The knife grazed his wing, and he immediately ripped off his jacket, diving sideways, using his wings to quickly propel to the opposite side of the room and almost into the wall, this wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening.

Alfred turned toward him, his mouth pressed tightly, no trace of that happy, silly smile anywhere on his features, his eyes were crimson, this couldn't be happening, this wasn't possible. Alfred was walking forward now, and Arthur's heart was pounding, his pulse in his ears seemed to drown out everything, this couldn't be real this was some sort of nightmare.

More shadows seemed to be twisting around in every crevice of the room. He'd heard of this sort of demonic power before, only in passing. Only powerful demons could do it, could control the shadows. Only a demon.

"You're a demon," Arthur finally said, still staring, unable to move.

Alfred nodded. "Yeah," he said.

Arthur's breath was coming in gasps. "And…And all of this… _All_ of it was a lie," he said.

Alfred froze, only for a moment, a split second. Then, he said, "Yeah. All of it."

Those words. Arthur flinched. The sharp pain in his chest was like nothing he'd ever felt before, like the dagger had been driven into his heart and then torn out. It felt empty. Just for an instant.

And then he felt something else, and his arms were shaking, and then, as loud as he could, he screamed.

"_**YOU LIAR!**_"

He caught a glimpse of Alfred's eyes widening as he launched himself forward, and then they collided. "**YOU LYING BASTARD!**" Arthur screamed, ripping the dagger from Alfred's hand and grabbing his throat.

Alfred reeled back and knocked Arthur's hand away, but Arthur just grabbed the first thing he could and hurled it, watching the lamp shatter just behind Alfred's head. He felt a crackle of energy, and he leapt forward again, and this time his hands were almost glowing, and his fist collided with Alfred's jaw knocking him backward, sending his glasses flying.

"**WHAT ABOUT EVERYTHING YOU _EVER_ SAID TO ME!?**" He bellowed, still lashing out at Alfred, who had crimson blood smeared across his face. Alfred stumbled back. "**WHAT ABOUT ALL THAT **_**HERO**_** SHIT!? WAS THAT A LIE TOO!?**"

"Arth—"

"_**SHUT UP JUST SHUT UP!**_" He swung his fist again, as hard as he could, at that face that he'd laughed at, he'd smiled at, he'd kissed only a week before.

And then the dagger that he'd forgotten on the floor drove into his leg.

He screamed again, falling forward, and then the shadows at his feet grabbed him, letting the dagger clatter to the floor. He sat there, gasping for breath, staring blankly at the floor. There were tears streaming down his face, although he didn't recall crying.

He heard, rather than saw, Alfred walking away, stooping down to scoop up the now broken glasses. He slipped them onto his face. Then, slowly, he turned.

Arthur forced his head up. Alfred stared down at him. His face was chalk white, smeared with blood, but he walked forward, his eyes never leaving Arthur's face, not when he bent down and grabbed his knife, not when walked closer, not when he stood over his boyfr…

…his…

…

And then Arthur shut his eyes.

There was a long moment when no one moved, or made a sound, save for Arthur's ragged breathing. Then he heard Alfred shifting, and something cold against his throat. He flinched, and squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could.

…

And then the dagger clattered to the floor.

"…damn it…" Alfred breathed.

Arthur looked up, to find a pair of blue eyes, and tears. Alfred took a step back, just slowly shaking his head. "I…I can't…I can't do this," he said softly. And then he was laughing. "I-I can't do this," he repeated shakily, running his hands through his hair. Then, he turned toward Arthur again, who could only stare at him. "I-I…I'm done now," he said, still shaking slightly. "I'm done now."

Another long pause. Then, Alfred was smiling, tears still streaming down his face. "Sorry about everything, Arthur," he said. He turned, walking toward the door, out of Arthur's line of vision. Arthur stiffened, trying to turn his head, craning to see Alfred. "I…I probably won't be bothering you anymore," Alfred said softly. "So…So bye…Arthur…"

The door clicked behind him.

It took almost a minute before Arthur realized he could move. He slowly stood up, feeling his wing and his leg bleeding freely, but not quite feeling the pain, the sound of the rain outside filling his head. He swayed slightly, his eyes taking in the destroyed apartment, the furniture he must've knocked over. The shards of the lamp he'd thrown were scattered across the hardwood floor.

He stared around some more, but the images were starting to make less and less sense. He found himself walking, just sort of…making his way through the debris. And he walked into his room, suddenly fumbling through his drawer, then his bed, his hand closing around a small cell phone he'd tossed aside before. And he started dialing.

Francis answered with a huff after a few rings. "_Mon dieu_, Arthur, why do you always manage to call at the worst possible time?" He complained loudly, probably flipping his hair in the process. "And here I was beginning to enjoy your whole 'not talking to me'—"

"Francis."

Francis froze. "…Um, Arthur…?" He questioned.

"Francis…you were right…"

…

Alfred walked into his apartment for the last time, looking around, his eyes falling on the backpack. He grinned weakly, slipping it over his shoulder, tucking his broken glasses into a side pocket. He even scooped up the book he'd thrown, shoving it into another pocket.

His ringtone pierced the silence, as it had been doing nonstop the entire walk home. This time, he decided to answer it. He calmly drew the phone out, pressing the speak button. "Hey dude."

"A-Alfred-kun—"

"Um, I guess we're not gonna be chatting all that much anymore huh?" Alfred laughed at this

Kiku swallowed. "A-Alfred-kun you—"

"I'm gonna go now, Kiku," Alfred told him softly walking over to the window, looking outside at the pounding rain. "Figure someone'll get here soon enough, though not sure how cooperative I'll be feelin'."

"A-Alfred-kun, please, you can't do this," Kiku pleaded softly.

Alfred smiled, opening the window. "I wish you all the luck in the world, Kiku." He hung up. And then, taking a deep breath, he threw the phone out the window.

It sailed through the air for what felt like an eternity. And then it hit the concrete, and shattered.

Alfred gave a satisfied nod, sighing to himself. He slipped his other arm through the backpack strap, and turned, walking from his apartment for the last time. He strode down the stairs, and out into the cold, and, just like that, he was gone.

* * *

End Part 1

* * *

_Hey guys. This is the end of the first half. I was thinking about making it into two fics, sort of like a sequel. But I think I'm just going to leave it as one. Makes it easier._

_This is my first time writing a fight scene. Um, I hope it turned out alright. Hope you all like it._

_I think it might be a little before I get the next chapter up. I told myself I'd work a little on some other fics for a bit. And I need a little to figure out the second half of this one._


	24. Falling Apart

Part 2

* * *

There was something about the quiet pitter-patter of rain on the window that always put a damper on Francis's mood. Arthur always told him he was being stupid whenever he mentioned it, but everything just seemed so depressing with the bleak, grey sky hanging above their heads. That, and the humidity always ruined his hair.

Of course, he'd already feeling kind of down before the sagging clouds finally broke open above them, but it seemed the sky had it in for him as well. Oh well, _c'est la vie._

Francis took one more look out at the bleak, rainy city before finally pulling the curtains shut, blocking out what little light had been there in the first place. Immediately, he reached toward a nearby lamp, before stopping himself with a grimace, glancing toward the figure sleeping on the couch nearby.

Arthur's eyes were shut tightly as he lay sprawled across his couch. His chest rose and fell with each breath, the only thing assuring Francis that yes, indeed, that was not a corpse. Francis had always though Arthur prided himself on managing to look like crap, but this was completely taking it to a new level.

Francis drew his hand away from the (extremely tacky mon dieu where did Arthur buy his furniture) lamp, crossing his arms and striding over to look at his friend. Or enemy. Francis wasn't quite sure which anymore. He supposed Arthur _had _let him into his apartment, but that could hardly account for anything.

He hadn't managed to get anything coherent out of Arthur over the phone, so he'd shown up weeks ago to find Arthur's apartment almost completely destroyed. Arthur had been slumped over in his room, his arm and leg and wing bleeding, almost sobbing, his face white and his hair disheveled. There was glass on the floor and upturned furniture. And, in the center of the room, there'd been a Demon's dagger, black and gleaming and bloody.

It had been that Alfred boy. Alfred was the demon. Alfred had tried to kill Arthur. Alfred had lied to him. And Arthur had fallen for it.

Francis sighed to himself, trying to smooth his hair with his fingers. He wasn't sure why he'd bothered staying for this many weeks weeks, but Arthur had yet to kick him out, so he supposed he'd stick around. He'd ended up sweeping up the glass and putting back the furniture, even putting up a new lamp (which he was deeply regretting). He'd cooked food for days too, not that Arthur ever thanked him. For anything, really, not just the meals and the cleaning, what did he think Francis was, some sort of (devilishly hansom) maid?

Well, he supposed he could wait until Arthur was fully conscious to complain.

Arthur had sort of just…stopped. For weeks, he hadn't done anything but sit on his couch. Francis had tried to bring him a few beers (he knew that fake ID could still come in handy), but he'd just shut down, curled up on the cushions, and stopped doing anything. If the rain hadn't gotten to Francis, Arthur's sulking would've probably done the trick.

Francis sat down on the edge of the couch, far enough away that Arthur couldn't hit him, and close enough to do something that would make Arthur want to hit him. He glanced at his friend's sleeping face. Even when he was asleep, he never quite seemed peaceful. Even now, his brows were furrowed together, with his perpetual frown still formed on his almost waxen face.

He sighed, glancing up at the clock to find it was getting pretty late in the morning. He leaned forward and, tapping Arthur's head, asked quietly, "Allô? Is anyone in there?"

Arthur stirred slightly, then swatted at Francis's hand. "…th' hell off me," he managed to mumble, his arm now draped over his face.

Francis rolled his eyes. "Get up," he said, this time leaning over and shaking him a few times. Arthur seemed to ignore him. "Arthur. Arthur, it's morning." Still no response. After a minute, Francis groaned. "Get up or I'll kiss you."

"Don't you fucking dare," Arthur said darkly, glaring up from under his arm.

Francis snorted, shaking his head. "Then get up," he said.

Arthur continued to glare for another minute, before rolling onto his back. His eyes were dull, with dark circles underneath, as if he hadn't slept in weeks, which was odd because that was practically all he'd been doing. "I think I'll just call in sick again," he muttered softly, more to himself than Francis.

Francis frowned at him. "Again? You remember what the school said last time, no? You could get expelled this time."

"Fourteenth time's the charm I guess," Arthur murmured dryly. "Why should I care?"

Francis scoffed in disbelief. "Mon ami, don't you remember? If you get expelled you might not be able to get back to heaven."

Arthur didn't move. "…oh…right…" He replied tonelessly.

Francis groaned. As much as he hated Arthur's usual overbearing attitude, he was finding this new indifferent Arthur even more intolerable. "Arthur, get up."

"Make me," Arthur shot back.

Francis huffed. Then he stood up, grabbed the edge of the couch cushion, and yanked as hard as he could. With a yelp, Arthur tumbled onto the floor. "OW, YOU BLOODY MORON WHAT THE HELL!?" He shouted angrily.

"Whoops, désolé, I was afraid that if you sat too still those caterpillars of yours would try to transform into butterflies—"

"GYAH!" Arthur suddenly leapt to his feet and launched himself at Francis. "I'M GOING TO PULL ALL OF YOUR BLOODY HAIR OUT OF YOUR HEAD DO YOU HEAR ME EVERY SINGLE BLOODY STRAND AND THAT'S NOT EVEN AN EXPRESSION YOUR HEAD IS GOING TO **BLEED**!"

"AH NON NOT MY HAIR YOU BRUTE!" Francis yelped, frantically pulling Arthur off of him. The two of them fought for about a minute before, much to Francis's surprise, he was able to wrestle Arthur to the ground. He laughed triumphantly, grinning down at Arthur. "Hon hon hon, seems I've come out on top, oui~?" He laughed at his own joke.

And then he paused when he realized Arthur wasn't moving. "…err, Arthur?"

"Please just…get off…" Arthur whispered.

Francis hopped up and bent down next to Arthur, whose pale face was simply pressed against the floor. "Arthur?"

"I don't…I don't want to do this anymore," he mumbled, sitting up slowly.

"Do what exactly…?"

"_Any of this!_" Arthur snapped furiously, glaring up. "I…just…" he paused, shaking his head. "I'm going back to sleep…" He stood up, and sluggishly dragged himself into his bedroom.

Francis stared after him, his mouth pressed into a thin line. The thing that worried Francis the most, even after spending weeks with Arthur, wasn't the sleeping, or the silence or the angry outbursts. He'd dealt with all of that before. The thing that worried him the most was that in all the years he'd known Arthur, he'd never, not once, seen a look of defeat in his eyes.

And now that was all there was.

Francis gave a frustrated sigh as Arthur's door slammed shut, flopping himself onto the couch Arthur had occupied only moments ago. _What am I supposed to do now,_ he wondered vaguely, glaring at the ceiling as if it would hold the answers. But it didn't.

Not that it mattered though. He already knew what he had to do next.

He had to kill Alfred F. Jones.

Once the demon was dead, Arthur could come back. And everything would go back to normal. Arthur would forget about that boy, and the two of them could just go back to heaven like nothing had happened.

Everything would go back to normal…why didn't that sound as reassuring as Francis was hoping?

…

On the opposite side of the city, a young man stood silently at a bus stop, looking up toward the grey sky as the rain started pouring. He flinched slightly as the first drop hit his face, then backed up toward the nearest building, ducking down as low as he could.

How odd that the weather in Hell was much better than this. Or maybe he'd just gotten used to the heat after living what could've been an eternity in Hell.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Calmly, he slipped it out, flipping it open to find a text message on the glowing screen. As expected, it only had two sentences.

_The rogue demon is somewhere in the city. Kill him._

Kiku Honda took a deep breath, putting the phone back into his pocket. He already knew what he had to do.

* * *

_Guess who's back and better than ever?_

_It's me._

_I am that._

_Hello._

_Unfortunately I may not be able to write very often this week/month, but I'll try to get crackin'. Figured might as well upload this real quick before business sets in._

_Alfred sure is popular, huh~?_


	25. Bet Your Bottom Dollar

On the other side of the city, Alfred F. Jones stared down at his last dollar bill, a pout forming across his face as he eyed George Washington's green, wrinkled face. It was still a grey, rainy day, and the half-lit fluorescent lights above his head only gave off enough light to make out the loopy signature on the bottom of the bill.

"Excuse me sir?"

Alfred looked up at the cashier, who was still holding his bag of fast food with a dull expression. "Sir, I said that would be $5.34," the man repeated.

Alfred gave a weak laugh. "Err, sorry, I, uh…" he slowly tucked the bill back into his pocket. "I-I left my money in my…other pants…"

The man sent him an annoyed glower. With another nervous laugh, Alfred stepped out of the line. "I-I'll just go then…" he mumbled, then backed out of the store, his hands tucked deep into his pockets, one hand still curled tightly around the single dollar bill.

By the time he stepped back outside, the rain had become a faint drizzle. Even the sun had begun to peak out from behind the grey clouds, revealing a faint mist above the pavement. Alfred smiled slightly, craning up to look at the sky above the buildings. He'd never seen a rainbow before, but he was pretty sure the conditions were right.

A walker suddenly clipped his arm, then another man walking past almost stepped on his foot. Alfred jumped, managing to get out of the way as a few more pedestrians squeezed past on the crowded sidewalk, and almost stepping out onto the busy street.

_Oh right,_ p_eople,_ Alfred thought, maneuvering himself through the crowd and away from the street_._ He sighed softly, keeping with the crowd until he managed to squeeze into a small alley off to the side.

He stood there for a moment, then leaned against the wall, folding his arms and turning to watch the people passing by. Most of them were staring ahead, or talking rapidly on their phones, or staring toward the ground as they moved through the crowd. Alfred found himself wondering where they were all off to in such a rush. And kind of wishing he could be like one of them, with a place to go.

Alfred couldn't leave the city. Even if he'd had a car, or the guts to try hitchhiking, the farther he got from a huge city full of people, the less his human body could hide him. Because demon powers were hard enough to hide as it was. He just had to stay put and hide until things died down. As long as his human body stayed intact, he was sure he could do it.

He sighed to himself. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. He was broke, homeless, cold, tired, and hungry. Mostly hungry. If only he had five more bucks. Then he could…

…he could…

…well, he could what exactly? He could eat a sandwich, and then he'd be wandering through the city for another couple of hours until sunset before finding a bed at whichever homeless shelter was open. How exciting.

He sighed, fixing his glasses (he wasn't sure why he had them fixed, it was kind of a waste of money).

He stood in the small alley for at least ten more minutes, before the rain finally stopped completely. Grinning, he brushed his damp bangs out of his eyes. Well at least the weather was cooperating. He glanced up at the sky. Maybe it was his imagination, but he could've sworn there was a rainbow peaking out, just past the buildings. He was sure Arthur would've assured him he was just imagining…

…

…

He shook that thought out of his head quickly, and straightened up, shifting his ratty backpack over his shoulder as he slipped back out of the alley. He wasn't sure where to, but walking always helped clear his mind when it started wandering.

And his mind wandered a lot.

His feet carried him a few blocks before he slipped into another building. He sighed and shrugged his backpack off onto the wooden floor, leaning backward and landing with a plop on a small bench. He stretched his arms, glancing around, giving a polite smile toward a familiar person behind the front desk who nodded in response.

Oddly enough, he found himself in a small library. He actually slipped in here more often than he would've liked to admit. Mostly because they didn't kick him out for not buying anything, partially because sometimes they let him look at the small collection of comic books they kept in the back. No one there asked many questions or cared that he was obviously high school age and not in a high school. They just let him be.

Alfred started rummaging through his backpack for a comic book to read. He didn't have very much in the backpack, but he kept it around for cheap bags of chips and cool little trinkets he picked up here and there. Mostly just stuff to occupy his time, distract him from the fact he was homeless, and hungry, and had no one he could turn to and talk to for reassurance that he was going to be fine and not be killed and he was doing the right thing.

His hand brushed against a paperback book deep in his bag. He jumped, yanking his hand out to glare at the papercut he received, then angrily pulled the book out. Of course, it was Romeo and Juliet. Its pages were yellowed already, from his constant flipping through, just to look at the cramped handwriting in the margins. He'd even started reading the actual story once or twice.

He missed Arthur. There, he said it. Or thought it, rather. He missed Arthur. He missed Arthur a whole lot. He missed Kiku too. He missed the friends that he'd made at school. He missed his life from only a month ago. He missed having a home, and a purpose for being here. He missed his old life as Alfred F. Jones. But that Alfred F. Jones was dead.

He heard the door open and close from nearby, not even looking up from his book to see who came in. Actually, he ignored them completely until he heard a familiar voice.

"But Ludwig, the extra project thingy isn't even due for another week, I don't wanna research, and can't we just look stuff up on the internet?"

"Feliciano, you are doing this project right now," Ludwig snapped back angrily, dragging a squirming Feliciano behind him through the glass doors. "You need three more points to pass this class, do you understand me, _three goddamn points_, and so help me if I need to tutor you for another whole year—"

"But there're only a few days left why do we even have to start can't we just take a siesta and—"

Suddenly, Ludwig stopped in his tracks, his eyes falling on a reflection in the glass in front of him. Feliciano walked into Ludwig's back, then blinked in confusion. "Ve, Ludwig?"

Ludwig turned toward the empty wooden bench near the front doors. "…huh…?" He frowned. "Hmm, that's strange…"

"What is?"

"…no, nothing. Come on." The two walked off.

Alfred let out a shaky breath as he stood on the other side of a wall, holding onto the strap of his backpack. The shadows around him slowly started to dissipate, sinking back against the wall. He glanced around at his new surroundings. He was in a small office, standing near a desk stacked with papers. That was something he'd never done before, going through the wall. He took a few painful gulps of air, feeling his legs shaking under him. _Note to self: Don't do that again, _he told himself.

He managed to steady himself after a few minutes, pulling his back over his shoulders. His lungs still felt painful, but he really didn't want to stay there and explain how he got in when he was caught. But as he started forward, his eyes caught something in the corner of the room. A mini-fridge.

Almost on cue, his stomach started to growl. Alfred froze and grimaced, looking around at the empty office. He could hear noises from outside the door, but it seemed that whoever was using this office was out to lunch. Quickly, before he could talk himself out of it, he tiptoed over and pulled open the door, reaching in and pulling out a small yogurt from the back, along with a plastic spoon. Hopefully no one would miss it, right?

God, how heroic was that…

He swallowed a few spoonfuls before slipping through the office door, creeping out of the building as silently as possible. Fortunately, he was near the front doors, so he was able to sneak out rather quickly.

He couldn't leave the city. But he couldn't talk to any of his old friends either. He couldn't do anything. All he had to do was lay low and keep his body intact and…

…and continue living like this?

Alfred paused with the last spoonful of yogurt in his mouth, standing outside on the crowded street under the grey sky. All he had to do was keep living like this. As if this could be called living.

He allowed himself one more sigh as he tossed his yogurt into a trashcan. And he was back to his earlier question:

Now what?

…

Across town, several hours later, Arthur was in the same position he had been in before. Namely, face down on the couch. Staring blearily into the couch material. Hating everyone and everything.

Francis, as he had several times before, had tried to wake him up by shaking him a few times, but Arthur found himself getting better and better at ignoring him. He just had to stay limp, as if he were dead. Not that it was hard, he just about felt that way already.

He stayed there, unmoving for the longest time, even after Francis started sitting on him to watch some show on TV. He even ignored it when Francis had obviously put his hand right on Arthur's arse, which, as Arthur was starting to learn, made the frog quickly lose interest and go back to his soap opera.

Neither of them so much as moved an inch until the doorbell rang, which caused the both of them to jump.

Francis turned toward the door. "Quoi…?" He pushed himself up. "Arthur, were you expecting anyone?"

Arthur clenched his teeth angrily, willing his heart to slow down. Just because for one split second he'd thought it was…

…

…well, you know.

Francis made his way over to the door, sighing to himself. "You really need one of those small eyeholes on this door," he mumbled, pressing his ear to the door. Then another loud bang on the door caused him to wheel back.

"Hey Eyebrows! Hey! I know for a fact you're in there this time!"

Both of them stiffened, recognizing that obnoxious voice almost immediately. And then the other voice spoke up. "Err, Gilbert, how do you know he's in there?"

"Shh, shut up, I'm talking."

Francis backed up. "Arthur, say something, make them leave," he whispered frantically.

Arthur smirked, shutting his eyes. _Handle this yourself, because I'm still asleep, arsehole,_ he thought smugly.

"Arthur? Arthur. Arth—I know you're not asleep, get up! Arthur!" Francis groaned, looking around for something to help him.

"Maybe he's 'on holiday', no?"

"What, it's not a holiday, besides I heard voices I know someone's in there." Another bang on the door. "Eyebrows! Come on, open the door, we just wanna talk a sec!"

Finally, with a deep sigh, Francis turned, cleared his throat, and with the highest voice he could make, called, "No one is here! I am just a maid!"

There was a pause outside. "…whoa, what?" He heard Gilbert snigger. "Why the hell does Eyebrows have a maid?"

"Maybe to clean things!"

"…Antonio, that's all that they _do_. Unless of course it's a prostitute~!"

"Why would he have a prostitute?"

"Why the hell do you _think_ he'd have a prostitute?"

"There is no one else here!" Francis interrupted loudly. "Just the maid."

"Well, when the hell is Eyebrows gonna be back?" Gilbert demanded.

Francis paused. "Err…sorry, I don't speak English."

"Wha…? Yes you do!"

"No I don't."

"Yes you d—you're speaking it right now!"

"I am just a maid, please go away~!"

"Ugh…" He heard Gilbert kick the ground. "Whatever, come on Antonio, we can just check tomorrow."

"Wait…" Another knock on the door. "Francis?"

There was a pause. Francis froze in place. Arthur actually glanced up in surprise from where he'd been lying. Then Gilbert started laughing. "So I say 'prostitute maid' and _Francis_ is the first thing that comes to your mind—?"

"No, it sounded almost like Francis's voice," he insisted. Another knock. "Francis? Is that you, amigo?"

Francis was beginning to panic. "Arthur! Arthur, come here and pretend that I'm a prostitute!" Arthur blinked, then quickly shut his eyes again. "Arthur!" Francis looked over. "I know you're not asleep. Arthur!"

"Eh maybe it does sound a little like him, but why would he be here?"

"Sí, and why would he be a prostitute maid in Arthur's house?"

Francis groaned. "I'm telling you, I never said 'prostitute'!" He protested.

Both of them stopped talking immediately, and Francis realized he hadn't changed his voice that time. "…damn."

"Hey, Francis!"

"Francis, open the door!"

Francis grimaced, then yanked the door open, grabbed both of his old friends by their collars, and dragged them through the doorway. "What in the hell do you think you two are doing?" He hissed, slamming the door behind them.

"What are _we_ doing? What the hell are you doing here?" Gilbert asked, staring at his one time friend in disbelief. "Couldn't you at least stop by and say hi?"

"Gil, calm down, he's obviously on the job right now."

Both of them turned to look blankly at Antonio. He simply smiled. "…you said you're a maid now, no?"

Even Arthur groaned at that. Francis was rubbing his temples. "Why are you here?" He asked again.

Gilbert shrugged. "Well, I'd been planning on telling Eyebrows that my little brother thought he saw Alfred at the library today."

Arthur stiffened from his spot on the couch. _What?_

"…you…did?" Francis asked slowly.

"Ja, it's weird, no one even knows what happened to the little weirdo, so I don't know why he'd just be hanging around a library—"

"Which library?" Francis interrupted.

"…um, I dunno, probably that tiny one near our apartment—?"

"When did he see him? Were there others with him?"

"You're kinda freaking me out a little…"

"Yeah, we were only planning on talking to Arthur."

"Where is the little dummkopf anyway?"

Francis glanced toward the couch, only just remembering he was there. "He's…he's asleep," he responded calmly, although Arthur could detect a hint of worry in his voice. "Let's go talk in the other room."

"You two sleeping together or something?" Gilbert started snickering, as they both leaned over and glanced at Arthur, who pretended as hard as he could that he was asleep.

"Non, we are _not_," Francis replied. "Not for lack of trying of course. For some reason I'm not even allowed in his bedroom—"

"Wow, how come he has that really weird feathery blanket?" Antonio asked.

There was a long pause. No one moved. Or breathed. Until Gilbert took a deep breath and calmly said,

"**HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT WHY THE FUCK DOES HE HAVE WINGS OH MEIN GOTT JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!**"

* * *

_I didn't really want to end this here, but I figure I haven't put anything up yet, so might as well. (I was planning on putting this up right before heading to ColossalCon, but I didn't get the chance.) I'm sorry if it's still kind of slow, I promise the story will pick up soon. At the very least, I'm going to enjoy the next chapter._


	26. Clearing Up Some Misconceptions

Francis yelped as Gilbert started screaming. "No no no no calm down he doesn't have wings that's just a-a blanket—"

"**FRANCIS THERE ARE HUGE ASS FEATHERY THINGIES PROTRUDING FROM HIS BACK THAT IS NOT A THING THAT SHOULD BE THERE FRANCIS—!**"

"Gilbert calm down—"

"**NO YOU CALM DOWN I AM PERFECTLY CALM CALM IS MY MIDDLE NAME NOT SOME GERMAN MIDDLE NAME OR ANYTHING NEIN NO WAY IT IS **_**CALM**_**!**"

"…uh…"

"**MY OTHER MIDDLE NAME IS AWESOME BUT THIS SEEMS OFF TOPIC **_**WHY DOES HE HAVE WINGS YOU HAVE NOT ANSWERED MY QUESTION FRANCIS THAT IS NOT NORMAL—**_"

"_Calm down!_" Francis hissed, grabbing the both of them and dragging the two of them into Arthur's room nearby. "Both of you be quiet, just calm down and let me explain."

"I haven't said anything," Antonio said.

Both of them turned toward Antonio. "…and how come you're not panicking?" Francis asked dryly.

Antonio shrugged. "I always thought he escaped from a circus anyway, because of his eyebrows."

Gilbert snorted. "Pfft, nice one." They high fived.

Francis sighed deeply, shaking his head and massaging his temples. Why oh why hadn't he thought to get a blanket for Arthur, he wondered unhappily. When he eventually looked back up, both of them were staring at him. "…uh…what?"

"You knew about that," Gilbert said darkly, his eyes suddenly narrowed in suspicion.

Francis paled, looking at his two friends' stares uncomfortably. "Uh…"

"Why didn't you let us in on the secret?" Gilbert demanded indignantly, crossing his arms.

"Were you afraid we would sell him to a circus?"

Francis frowned at Antonio. "Why would you sell him to a circus?"

"…to get money, I guess."

Francis sighed, and Gilbert said, "If you want, we could probably still sell him."

Francis glowered at the two of them, who only snickered in response. Then, calmly, Francis stood up and, without a word, began unbuttoning his shirt. Both Gilbert and Antonio paused, frowning in confusion. "Err…Francis…?" Antonio questioned.

"Fine, I am letting you in on the secret," he replied angrily, and then slipped his shirt off, and, without another word, spread his large, white wings behind him.

There was a long, long, uncomfortable silence. No one spoke, or moved, of even breathed. They just sort of stared blankly at Francis, mouths hanging open in complete and utter shock. Francis gave an uncomfortable smile. "Surprise…?"

"…Francis you have wings," Antonio told him blankly, pointing.

Francis sighed. "Alright, well, how about I start explaining a bit, oui?" Both of his friends nodded in unison, their mouths still agape and their eyes never leaving Francis's spread wings.

…

Outside of Arthur's room, the couch was empty. The door was shut tightly, closed without a sound. His coat was gone from the hook. And the most out of place item missing from the apartment was a knife from the kitchen.

…

"Alright, alright, so _you_ are an…an angel," Gilbert repeated slowly, mouth formed into a thoughtful scowl. "You and Eyebrows both are…_angels_?"

"Oui," Francis nodded, his wings folded loosely behind him, not quite looking toward either of his friends but instead at the ceiling. He'd explained everything to them. It was odd, (especially with all the sex he had,) but he felt strangely naked.

"And…And you're telling me that Alfred kid is like the devil or something?" Gilbert continued, scratching his head. "And he's trying to kill Eyebrows?"

"Oui, that is what I said," Francis said.

"…that is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" Gilbert started snickering.

Francis glared at him from the seat he'd taken near the door. Arthur's room was lacking in furniture, but there was one rickety stool, and Gilbert and Antonio had taken their seats on the bed. Gilbert was leaning against the wall, and Antonio was sprawled on the blankets, his eyes never leaving Francis's wings.

Gilbert was still sniggering when he saw Francis's scowl. "Come on. Alfred? That nerd? He and Eyebrows were practically head over heels! Joined at the hip or some shit. There is no way—"

"He tried to kill Arthur," Francis snapped.

Gilbert paused. "…oh come on, no way, that kid was…" he frowned, "I mean, he seemed like a nice kid…"

"People can act," Francis muttered.

Gilbert sighed. "True. And you two dumbasses sure fooled me, I mean when you say the word 'angel' you're the last thing that pops into my mind…"

Francis rolled his eyes, starting to get agitated. They find out he's an angel and they're still as obnoxious. "You've been quiet, Antonio," he said, hoping to change the subject.

"How did you die?"

Francis paused. "Excusez-moi?"

Antonio sat up, leaning against the wall near Gilbert. "Angels are…dead people, no?" He finally looked away from Francis's wings and toward his face. "Did you die?"

"Oh n-non I…I mean I…" Francis sighed. "It doesn't work that way, I don't remember…who I was when I was alive."

"Oh." Antonio seemed to perk up after that, smiling. After a moment, he said. "So are you like part bird?"

"…uh—"

"Do you eat bird food?"

"What why would—?"

"Ja you ever eat birdfood?" Gilbert chimed in, grinning at him. "If you need I got plenty of extra of you need!"

Francis groaned. "Both of you stop." Both of them were laughing, and somehow Francis found himself laughing too, shaking his head. He'd missed these two the most after he'd gone home. He enjoyed Earth considerably more that Arthur ever had, but these two…

Suddenly, Francis remembered his friend asleep in the next room over. He paused, looking over toward the door, his smile fading quickly. The more he thought about it, the less sure he was about what to do about Arthur. Or anything really.

"So how's Eyebrows doing?" Gilbert interrupted Francis's thoughts, smirking at him as if he knew what Francis had been thinking about.

"He's…well he's alive, at least," Francis replied. "Why do you care, you don't like him."

Gilbert shrugged. "Hey, _you_ were the one that asked us to keep an eye on him," he said.

Francis paused, looking toward his friends. "I was…?"

Gilbert laughed. "Ja, come on, it was practically the last thing you said to us."

"We did keep an eye on him!" Antonio chimed in. "Even if he was a terrible person to us anyway!"

"…oh…" Francis stared in awe at his two friends. "I, um…I am sorry."

"Well you should be," Gilbert told him. "He was a pain in the ass. We were always helpin' him out, and you know how many times he thanked us?"

"…uh…never?"

"Never! Not once!" Gilbert sighed. "A waste of time for someone as awesome as me, in my opinion."

"I'll keep that in mind next time I need a favor," Francis said, rolling his eyes. "Speaking of Arthur, maybe we should check on him for a second…" He creaked the door open, glancing toward the couch. Then he froze. "…huh…?"

Gilbert and Antonio frowned. "…um, what?"

Francis stepped out of the room. "Arthur?" He called, looking around in concern. "Arthur? Where did—?" His eyes fell on the open kitchen door, and the open knife drawer. "…ah…"

…

Arthur strode down the street, his steely eyes staring at the buildings nearby, scanning for the small, overlooked library he knew was somewhere. The knife he'd grabbed was tucked into his pocket, and his wings were tucked safely into his thin coat. He kept looking around coldly, until—there it was! He stopped in his tracks, then strode through the door into the small, cool library. He knew this was near where Gilbert and Ludwig lived. This had to be the right library, right?

He tucked his hands into his pockets before remembering the knife, his hand wrapping itself tightly around the knife handle. The library was small, with dozens of tall rows of books stacked to the back of the room. The walls were white, the floor was wood, and the building smelled like books, something that under normal circumstances would've instantly cheered Arthur up.

Instead, he slowly walked toward the first row of books, his heart pounding in his throat, and peaked into the aisle. He saw blond hair, and froze, until he realized it was just a young woman shelving books. He let out a shaky breath, and silently tiptoed to the next row, peaking down the row to find a young family, with a toddler running around.

He sighed again and continued down the aisles, half afraid to even breathe. At every row his grip on the knife in his pocket tightened considerably. But he never found that familiar pair of blue eyes.

Finally, he ran out of aisles. He stopped, staring down the empty aisle. It made sense, Alfred wouldn't return. Why would he, especially if he were already here today? Why on earth was Arthur so stupid? He groaned, turning around. He could see out the front windows that the sun was beginning to sink already, turning the sky pink.

He slowly began making his way back to the front, when a voice behind him chimed, "Excuse me?"

Arthur spun around immediately, finding the young woman who'd been shelving earlier. "Pardon me," Arthur mumbled uncomfortably, "I was just leaving."

"Were you looking for a book?" She asked brightly. "If you need any help, I know where to find everything!"

"O-Oh, no no it's fine, I was looking for someone, but I don't think he's here…"

The girl thought for a moment. "Maybe I've seen him. What does he look like?"

"Um…well he's blond, and a little taller than I am, and he has glasses—"

"Oh, does his hair sort of stand up in the front?" She asked.

Arthur perked up. "Yes," he responded softly. "Have you seen him?"

She nodded. "Yes, he comes here a lot, usually reads a comic book on that bench." She thought for a second. "I think you missed him though, he was here earlier."

Arthur felt himself deflate slightly. "Oh. Right. Maybe I'll come back tomorrow…"

"Oh, you may not have to!"

Arthur looked up in confusion. The girl smiled. "He left in a hurry earlier, and some of his comics must've fallen out of his backpack. It's happened before, he's usually back before closing to grab them."

Arthur stared. He wasn't sure, but he could've sworn his heartbeat stopped. He heard himself say, "Maybe I'll wait here for a while…" and walk toward the small wooden bench she'd motioned to earlier. He heard her say something and walk away, but he didn't quite catch what. It didn't matter, because Alfred had been here. And was going to come back. And Arthur was…

…Arthur was what? What was Arthur going to do? What could he do here? What was he planning to do? He'd just charged out of his house with nothing but a steak knife. No plan, no backup. What on earth was he planning to do anyway? Maybe he could go home, wait until tomorrow. He could figure something out then. He could maybe get Francis's help…although there was something unsettling about that idea. He sighed to himself unhappily.

The door opened. "'scuse me?"

Arthur froze. And he looked up, toward a tall boy who'd just strode past him. The boy continued past Arthur without a second glance, toward the front desk, looking around, scratching his blond hair, his glasses crooked on his face. He looked around, ducking down as if he were checking the floor for something he'd dropped. Finally, he turned back toward the front.

Blue eyes met green. And suddenly, everything seemed to freeze.

* * *

_Guess who got a new computer? I did! Whoo hoo no one cares yay. Anyway, I have noticed a trend of me apologizing for not getting these chapters up as quickly as I would've liked. So I've decided to just stop doing that. Especially since this time it was because I forgot my password hooray._

_I will, however, apologize for the cliffhanger. I am sorry._

_I hope you all like the chapter despite the cliffhanger and such._

_Also if I don't answer as many reviews it's because my email is acting screwy. Thank you all for reviewing if I don't get the chance to thank you personally!_


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